


Sapphires and Rubies

by SeeTheVision



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Demisexuality, Fluff, Found Family, Friendship, LOONA ensemble - Freeform, M/M, Magical Shenanigans, OT7 NCT Dream, Ravenclaw!Jisung, Self-Discovery, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, and really lonely, chenle is chenle, gryffindor!Chenle, i think, jisung is really smart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:26:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 23,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22010275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeeTheVision/pseuds/SeeTheVision
Summary: Jisung is smart, even for a Ravenclaw. Smart enough to intimidate most people.It's a good thing Chenle is brave, even for a Gryffindor.
Relationships: Park Jisung/Zhong Chen Le
Comments: 263
Kudos: 942





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've wanted to write a Hogwarts AU for a while so here we are!  
> This isn't actually a real chapter but ao3 doesn't do prologues

Jisung has always loved to think, to imagine, to learn.

At age three, a tiny Jisung, round faced and wide eyed, asks his mother where the stars go during the day. His eyes widen with awe as his mother explains that the stars are always there but very far away, each one a sun like the one that burned in their sky. Jisung’s questions trip over each other in his excitement to learn more. What are stars made of? Why are they so hot? How big are they? How many are there? Jisung’s mother, with the help of the internet, tries her best to answer his questions, but Jisung is left unsatisfied. That night, Jisung stares out his window at the twinkling lights shining in the velvety blackness, and wonders. 

At age four, Jisung eagerly listens as his mother explains the alphabet to him. It’s fascinating how these random squiggles and lines can become sounds and ideas. By the end of the week, Jisung is reading short sentences. A few days after that, Jisung tugs the evening newspaper out of his father’s hands and proudly reads the first page aloud. Jisung’s parents stare at each other, eyes wide.

At age five, Jisung starts kindergarten and doesn’t understand why the nice teacher is so impressed that he can write his own name.

“I can write other things too,” he proclaims proudly.

“That’s wonderful, Jisung!” she beams, clapping her hands together, but her gaze is already distracted. Jisung frowns. He wants the nice teacher to know that he can write.

“Look,” he says, gripping the brand-new pencil in his tiny hand. 

_Jisung Park likes to write big words._

Tongue between his teeth, Jisung crosses out _big,_ replacing it with _gigantic, considerable, lengthy._

Jisung looks up, hoping to see the teacher smiling proudly at him, the way his parents always do when he shows them a new word he discovered or tells them about the book he’s just finished reading..

Instead, the young woman is staring, slack jawed at the page.

At age six, Jisung transfers to a different school, a _special_ school.

“Why do I have to go there?” Jisung asks as his parents show him photographs of an imposing stone building.

“Well, Sungie, you like to learn things, don’t you?” asks his mother, already knowing the answer.

Jisung nods eagerly.

“Have you been learning anything in school?”

Jisung shakes his head with a pout. He already knows everything that his classmates struggle to grasp. School is torturously boring, and he recently got in trouble for telling his class about negative integers while his teacher was trying to teach them to count to twenty.

“This school will teach you things you don’t know yet,” his father explains. “They let students work according to their own pace, so you can learn as fast as you like.”

Jisung’s soft cheeks puff out from the strength of his smile.

At age seven, Jisung reads a book about a little girl, very smart just like him, who can make things move with only her mind. He stares at his bookshelf, considering. Scientifically, he knows it isn’t possible, and yet… 

As Jisung stares, focusing, one of the books begins to tremble, then shift, then slip silently off the shelf and drift lazily toward the ceiling.

At age eleven, Jisung gets a letter from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Heavily inspired by that one tumblr post about Hermione reading Matilda)  
> Tbh I'm not really sure where this story is going. I have ideas but nothing super concrete, so I guess we'll figure it out together! I just really wanted to write a Hogwarts AU with Jisung as a Ravenclaw because this boi literally said his favorite thing to do is think and imagine


	2. Ink Blots and Intrigue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Chenle discovers the wonders of ballpoint pens

“Hey, Park!”

Jisung turns at the shout, scanning the corridor until his eyes land on a blonde boy hurrying through the bustle of students to catch up. As the boy approaches, Jisung mentally ticks off everything he knows about him.

Name: Chenle Zhong. House: Gryffindor. Year: fifth, like Jisung himself. Blood status: pureblood. Loud. Jisung thinks he’s heard of a Zhong on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, but has no idea what position the boy plays as he’s never been to a match.

That’s pretty much it; Jisung has never taken much notice of the boy unless he’s disturbing the quiet of a classroom or the library. 

Chenle Zhong’s smile is friendly as he meets Jisung’s gaze. “Park, I’m glad I caught you! You dropped your… um, this.” He extends his hand, holding out Jisung’s favorite blue ballpoint pen.

“Ah, thank you,” Jisung says politely and tucks it into his bag. Expecting the conversation to be over Jisung smiles awkwardly and turns away to resume his trek to the great hall for lunch, but the Gryffindor keeps pace as Jisung starts up the corridor.

“What is that, anyway?” the blonde boy asks interestedly. “I’ve never seen one before.”

“It’s a ballpoint pen,” Jisung replies, tensed for a rude comment about his muggleborn status, but Chenle Zhong merely cocks his head in interest, not a trace of malice visible in his open, friendly face.

“Ballpoint pen,” he repeats, testing the phrase out on his tongue. “What is it for?”

“It’s like a quill, but you never have to dip it in ink,” Jisung explains, voice rising to be heard over the chatter of the Great Hall. Once again, he expects the conversation to end as he awkwardly edges away toward the Ravenclaw table, but the Gryffindor’s interest is piqued.

“Woah, really?” he asks incredulously. “Never? Show me!”

“Uh, okay,” Jisung relents hesitantly, taking a seat at the long table with the other Ravenclaws, pulling the pen and a piece of parchment out of his bag and placing them on the tabletop in front of the excitable Gryffindor. Jisung clicks the pen, making the other boy jump. “Just write something like you normally would.”

 _Chenle Zhong,_ he scribbles, adding a flourish at the end. “This is so cool! Where does the ink come from?”

“It’s in a small tube inside the casing,” explains Jisung, reaching out and pointing at the metal tip of the pen, “and it comes out when this little ballpoint rolls across the parchment.”

Zhong turns the pen over in his hands, he tentatively presses the button at the opposite end, apparently delighted with the sound as he continues to click. “That’s genius! Did you come up with this?”

Jisung lets out a startled laugh. “Of course not! I brought it from home.”

“Oh, right, I forgot you’re muggleborn,” says the other, and Jisung stiffens, once again prepared for animosity, but Chenle Zhong continues to smile. “It’s incredible the things they come up with. I wish wizards took muggle inventions more seriously. If we all ditched quills for these things,” he clicks the pen again, “I wouldn’t have spilled ink all over my charms essay.”

Jisung laughs again, surprised and delighted. Not many people can make him laugh, and not many purebloods are so open minded. Chenle Zhong is, to say the least, intriguing.

On a whim, Jisung rummages around in his bag for one of his backup pens. “Here,” he says, tapping it with his wand to change the royal blue ink to deep scarlet, the color of Chenle’s tie, and handing it over. “In protection of future essays.”

The answering grin is blinding, “For real? Thank you so much, Park!”

Jisung shrugs, feeling out of his depth. This has been the longest conversation he’s held with anyone other than his parents or teachers in, well, years. It’s odd to be spoken to with such open friendliness, rather than the thinly veiled jealousy of the other Ravenclaws in his year. Being called the brightest student Hogwarts has seen in decades by Headmaster Lee himself in his first year hadn’t done much for Jisung’s popularity.

Not that he’s ever been particularly popular with children his own age. He’s always been too quiet, too bookish, too intelligent to make many friends.

Chenle Zhong doesn’t seem to care as he grins broadly at Jisung. “Well then, I’ll see you around. Thanks again for the… pen? Yeah, pen!”

When Jisung returns the smile, it doesn’t feel forced. “You’re welcome. See you, Zhong.”

“You can just call me Chenle.” The Gryffindor walks away, leaving Jisung more intrigued than the time he found out about the centaurs living in the Forbidden Forest and snuck out to meet them. (He’d spent hours with them, quietly gazing at the sky as the planets moved in lazy orbit overhead) 

  
  


When something catches Jisung's attention, he wants to learn everything about it. He yearns for understanding.

As such, Jisung's eyes quickly develop a habit of finding their way to Chenle Zhong whenever possible. The more Jisung observes, the more intrigued he is.

Chenle never sits at the Gryffindor table, opting to sit at the end of the Slytherin table with his odd assortment of friends. They're an unlikely bunch: three sixth-year Slytherins, Donghyuck Lee, Jaemin Na, and Renjun Huang, two Gryffindors, seventh-year Mark Lee as well as Chenle, and Jeno Lee, a sixth year Hufflepuff. 

Jisung wonders how they make a ragtag group like theirs work. He catches his overactive imagination wondering what it would be like to be a part of their bond, where he would fit in– but he catches himself when his mind wanders in that direction. He is an observer. There is no place for an overly smart Ravenclaw amid their silly pranks and raucous laughter.

To Jisung's surprise, Chenle seeks him out before their Defense Against the Dark Arts class a few days after their first conversation.

"Look," Chenle demands, unfurling a roll of parchment with a flourish to reveal his essay on dementors, written in dark red ink. "Not a single ink blot! I'm never using a quill again."

"No ink blots," Jisung agrees, "but you misspelled 'Azkaban.' It's a 'k,' not a 'c.'"

Chenle groans, pulling the pen out of a pocket in his robes to scribble out and rewrite the offending word. "Thanks for catching that, Park, I never would have noticed."

"Anytime," Jisung replies, amused as Chenle tries to squeeze the word 'Azkaban' above the mass of scribbles that was his first attempt. "Maybe a pencil would be better for essays."

"A what now?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the first proper chapter. In the future, would you guys prefer short chapters like this one with frequent updates, or longer chapters with more time between updates?


	3. Ghosts and Portraits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jisung is most definitely not lonely

It’s only the second week of term, O.W.L.s are months away, but from the amount of homework heaped upon the fifth years, one would think the teachers plan to give the exams next week. Jisung hears the other fifth year Ravenclaw boys complain about it in their dormitories at night, interspersed with chatter about the upcoming Quidditch tryouts and the rumors that some Gryffindor got expelled for smuggling a dragon egg into the castle. Jisung knows for a fact that the reason the boy in question isn’t at school is because he has dragon _pox,_ not a dragon _egg,_ but he doesn’t bother saying anything, and his roommates never ask his opinion anyway. The fifth bed in the Ravenclaw fifth year boys’ dormitory may as well be empty for all the notice anyone else pays to its occupant. 

Jisung doesn’t struggle with any of his subjects– magic is easy once one understands the theory behind it– but the sheer amount of work is borderline overwhelming. An essay won’t write itself, after all, no matter how smart you are. 

Saturday comes as a welcome break from classes, a chance to sleep in, and much-needed time to finish homework. 

By the time Jisung arrives at the Great Hall for breakfast, later than usual, his tawny brown owl Hemingway is already waiting for him, a letter clamped in his beak. Hemingway gives a screech as Jisung takes the envelope, as if chastising him for his tardiness, but is soon mollified by a gentle scratch beneath his beak. The temperamental bird leans into Jisung’s touch as he one-handedly opens the letter.

His mother’s familiar handwriting fills the page, with all the usual questions and reminders: is Jisung eating enough? Is he getting his homework done? Is he making friends?

Chenle’s friendly face fills his thoughts. Are they friends? Is giving someone a pen and occasionally chatting before class considered friendship? Jisung isn’t sure, but he’ll mention Chenle to his mother in his reply letter; he knows she worries that he’s lonely here. It doesn’t usually bother him that he has no friends among his fellow students; the teachers always spare a moment for him if he wants to talk, and he has Hemingway, as well as a few other… unconventional friends. He doesn’t need anything else.

He pushes away the thought of Chenle’s ragtag gang, laughing as though they haven’t a care in the world.

After sending Hemingway off with a reply to his parents, Jisung grabs his stack of homework and strolls leisurely toward the staircase, bypassing the library.

“Jisung!” a cheery voice greets him as he skips a trick step up to the seventh floor.

“Good morning, Chuu,” Jisung replies, smiling brightly at the closest thing he has to a normal student friend. In life, Jiwoo Kim, or Chuu as her friends called her, was a seventh year muggle-born Hufflepuff. In death, she still wears her house crest proudly on her transparent chest, and, no less proudly, silver-blooded gashes on her neck, remnants of a Sectumsempra curse cast by a Death Eater during the Battle of Hogwarts. Jisung met the vivacious ghost in his first year, when she had threatened to personally haunt a group of Slytherins who had been making fun of his blood-status.

“What’s new in that huge head of yours?” Chuu giggles, gliding up the stairs alongside him.

“Wondering if I could set up a WiFi hotspot in the castle,” responds Jisung. He’s been toying with the idea for a while, but technology reacts in unpredictable ways when exposed to the kind of raw magic that permeates Hogwarts castle.

“I have no idea what that means,” Chuu notes cheerfully as they reach the seventh floor by way of a handy shortcut behind a tapestry. She may be muggle-born, but in her time the internet was relegated to awkward desktop computers.

Jisung turns a corner into an empty corridor, decorated only by a tapestry. He walks the length of the hallway, turns on his heel, and doubles back. On his third walk past, the wall across from the tapestry is no longer blank stone; an ornate wooden door glints merrily in the light from the torches.

For Jisung, the Room of Requirement looks similar to the Ravenclaw common room: plush blue carpet, blue and bronze wall hangings, walls lined with bookshelves, a merrily crackling fire, and even a portrait of a young woman in Ravenclaw robes above the mantle. However, there's only one plush armchair, only one oak study table, and the bookshelves always seem to have the exact book Jisung needs. Since discovering the Room in his third year, Jisung rarely goes to the library; why would he when any materials needed for his homework are at his fingertips? Additionally, the Room provides access to books the Hogwarts library doesn't carry: science, mathematics, engineering, and even muggle fantasty and science fiction novels(Jisung's guilty pleasure, despite knowing that neither the science nor the magic is in any way accurate).

The book he'd been reading the last time he'd come is sitting invitingly on the table, already open to the right page, but Jisung nudges it aside as he collapses into the arm chair, tugging a half-finished Arithmancy chart from his bag.

Chuu drapes her translucent body over the back of the armchair with a sigh(quite unnecessary, as she doesn't need to breathe). Jisung can tell without looking that she's pouting.

"Oh, come on, Jisungie! We haven't had a chat in ages."

"I've been busy," Jisung replies, not looking up from the symbols on the parchment. "Fifth year isn't easy, you know."

Chuu makes a noise of disgust. "Oh believe me, I know. I can't believe I had go sit through all those exams and I never even got to graduate!"

The portrait over the fire pipes up for the first time since the boy and the ghost entered. "It's not the grades that matter, Miss Kim, it's the knowledge you gained," smiles the serene woman– Haseul, she had introduced herself the first time Jisung discovered the room, a descendant of Rowena Ravenclaw herself. He knows little about the real Hasuel, but the painting is good company.

"And a fat lot of good knowing how to brew a shrinking potion did me against a Death Eater," huffs Chuu. 

Jisung merely hums in vague confirmation; he's heard Chuu complain about her death too many times to feel all that sympathetic anymore. Maybe that made him a bad person.

"Mr. Park," Haseul speaks again from her frame, "I do hate to agree with Chuu, but it's been days since I've seen you, and I've been bored. The only other painting of me is still in that dusty old vault." 

If Haseul was hanging on one of the normal castle walls, she could leave her frame and wander through the other paintings at Hogwarts, but for some reason, she can't venture beyond the Room. Jisung theorizes that the Room of Requirement isn't a part of the castle at all, but a dimensional pocket with an access point in that particular spot in Hogwarts, almost like the link between two vanishing cabinets–

"Hello?" Chuu's ghostly hand waves in front of his face. "Earth to Jisung!"

"Sorry," mumbles Jisung, blinking away thoughts of spacial manipulation. "What were you saying?"

"Just wondering what you're up to lately," says Haseul with an encouraging smile. "Have you made any friends?"

She sounds just like his mother. Why is everyone so interested in his lack of a social life? "I have you guys, don't I?"

"That's really sweet Jisungie, but I'm dead," Chuu says. "I don't think I count as a person anymore. And Hasuel's just a _painting_ of a dead person, so she's even less of a person than I am."

"Hey! You take that back!" Haseul screeches.

Chuu sticks out her tongue. "What are you gonna do about it?"

Jisung laughs at their antics. This must be what having friends is like. He's fine as he is. Except...

"There is this one boy," blurts Jisung. The girls turn to him as one, Hasuel's interested face visible through Chuu's excited one.

"A boy? A friend? Tell me everything!" Chuu demands, silvery pigtails bouncing. 

"I gave him a pen, and we talk sometimes. It's not a big deal," mumbles Jisung, wishing he hadn't brought it up. He doesn't want to admit just how interested he's become in that odd Gryffindor boy. 

Chuu and Haseul pester him with questions, but Jisung focuses resolutely in his homework, even managing to finish early enough to continue his novel.

Life is fine the way it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In conclusion, stan loona
> 
> [concept art](https://twitter.com/see_thevision/status/1359700189792112641) of jisung and his friends!


	4. Favors and Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jisung has a real human friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look she's alive!  
> Sorry it's been a hot minute since the last update, and this one is pretty short, but I moved away from home and started uni the past few weeks so life's just been wild.

October brings chilling rain to Hogwarts, pounding at the windows and soaking through Jisung's socks as he scurries from his herbology class in the greenhouse back to the castle. He'd charmed his cloak with a waterproofing spell, at least, so he's better off than many of his classmates, who are drenched to the skin by the time they reach the entrance hall.

Jisung leans against the stone wall, pulling out his wand and pointing it at his damp feet. His socks hiss and steam as they dry.

"Care to use that trick on me?" a friendly voice rings out, and Jisung looks up to see Chenle Zhong, grinning brightly despite the cold water plastering his hair against his forehead, tracking mud into the entrance hall.

Jisung huffs in feigned annoyance, but beckons the Gryffindor closer. "Care of Magical Creatures?" He asks, noticing several muddy tracks on the front of Chenle's robes as he points his wand at them.

Chenle nods happily as his hair begins to steam, returning to its normal fluffy state. "The murtlaps love the rain. It's one of the only times they come out of the lake so we can study them."

Jisung scrunches his nose in distaste, glad he's chosen Study of Ancient Runes as his elective instead of Care of Magical Creatures. "You're filthy," he notes.

Chenle merely laughs, pawing at the mud splatters on his now-dry robes. "Am I? Well, it's nothing compared to quidditch practice these days, the field is so muddy. I swear, we're swimming more than flying out there."

"Do you want me to waterproof your quiddich robes?" Jisung blurts out, prompted by the thought of a shivering Chenle clinging to his broomstick like a drenched kitten stuck in a tree.

"You'd do that?" Chenle asks, eyes wide. "You're seriously an angel."

"It's not hard," Jisung said sheepishly, waving away Chenle's gratitude.

Chenle pouts– actually _pouts_ like a little kid, and Jisung looks away. "It _is_ hard. Charms is my worst subject," he laments.

"Lucky for you I'm good at it," Jisung comments awkwardly, cringing as soon as the words leave his mouth. He didn't mean to sound so arrogant.

"Yeah but you're good at everything," replies the other. The offhand compliment catches Jisung off guard; there's no bitterness or jealousy in Chenle's voice, only warm admiration and a touch of something else, something Jisung only ever heard from his parents. Almost like… pride? 

Jisung feels as though his face is going to start steaming just like Chenle's robes had. He merely offers a shrug in response, looking at the floor.

“Seriously though, Jisung, that would be amazing,” Chenle continues. “Do you think you could meet me back in the entrance hall after dinner?”

  
  


"And then what happened?" demands Chuu breathlessly, nearly vibrating with excitement. 

"What do you think happened?" Jisung responds wearily. He's almost regretting telling his friends about the encounter, but it's nice the way Chuu and Haseul hang on his every word. It's nice to have someone to talk to, even if they are a ghost and a painting. "I met him back in the entrance hall and I charmed his robes."

"And then?"

"And then he went to practice."

"So anticlimactic," huffs Chuu with a pout, crossing her arms. 

Haseul laughs. "I think Jisung making a friend is plenty exciting."

"I just waterproofed his robes," points out Jisung, "that doesn't make us friends."

"Of course it does," refutes Chuu exasperatedly. "You did him a favor, that's what friends do."

Jisung almost protests, but hesitates. Are he and Chenle friends now? He doesn't know; he doesn't have a lot of experience with friendship. 

In answer to his internal question, the astronomy books on the shelf nearest him disappear with a pop, replaced with various muggle psychology books about pack bonding, as well as a sparkly pink tomb with the moving image of a cartoon heart beating on the cover.

“ _A Young Witch’s Guide to Charming Boys,_ ” Chuu reads the title with glee.

Jisung groans and puts his forehead on the table.

  
  
  


Defense Against the Dark Arts is slowly becoming Jisung’s favorite class. It’s not that he has any particular passion for the subject itself; although basic defensive magic could come in handy, and learning about dark creatures can be fascinating, Jisung doesn’t see himself becoming an auror or duelist. No, Jisung admits to himself, it’s not really DADA that Jisung likes– it’s the fact that Chenle swapped seats with the girl who used to sit next to Jisung. 

“Oh god, that was due today?” Chenle gasps as he takes his seat, catching sight of Jisung’s neatly penned essay on grindlowes. 

“Yes,” Jisung replies, raising an eyebrow. “Maybe you would know that if you spent more time in class listening to Professor Seo instead of bothering me.”

Truly, Jisung doesn’t mind being distracted, and Chenle seems to know it as well. The Gryffindor grins as he always does when Jisung throws a jab his way. Jisung’s naturally sarcastic nature has always played a role in chasing away possible friends, but Chenle rarely seems to take anything seriously. Perhaps it’s because he spends so much time hanging around with those Slytherins, Donghyuck Lee and Renjun Huang, who have notoriously sharp tongues.

“Ah, well,” Chenle sighs. “I’ll just have to ace the next one. Any chance you’ll let me copy yours?”

“Absolutely not,” Jisung drawls. “I’m hurt. You only like me for my grades.” It’s a teasing remark, but it rings a little bit of truth. 

Once, when Jisung was in primary school, the coolest kids in his grade had started being nice to him– letting him sit at their lunch table and join in their games. Little Jisung, who had trouble making friends, was thrilled. He thought nothing of it when they asked to copy his math homework. _It’s what friends do,_ they told him.

Of course, the teacher had noticed. They’d all had to take notes home to their parents. Jisung had cried, afraid that his parents would be angry with him, but when they understood the situation, they merely gazed at him with sad eyes.

 _Listen to me, Jisungie,”_ Jisung’s dad had said, pulling the sniffling boy onto his lap. _Mommy and I aren’t mad at you. You just wanted to make friends.”_

Jisung’s mother smiled sadly. _You’re a very gifted boy, sweetie, and some people will try to take advantage of that._

Chenle isn’t like that, is he?

“No,” Chenle laughs, flicking Jisung on the forehead. “I’m not your friend because of your giant brain. I’m your friend because you gave me this!” He brandishes his red ballpoint pen.

“Oh, so you only like me for my belongings? I feel so appreciated,” Jisung pouts dramatically, but has to conceal a smile behind his textbook as Professor Seo claps his hands and begins collecting homework.

_Friend. He called himself my friend._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry for the short update, but I do have a basic outline for the rest of the story laid out now so hopefully I'll be able to update more frequently(if my homework load allows it, yikes)  
> As always, please leave a comment letting me know what you think!


	5. Breakfast and Boggarts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jisung gets a healthy dose of food, friendship, and fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a lot of fun to write, I love the Harry Potter universe so much.  
> I didn't really proofread this so hopefully there are no glaring issues

The first time Jisung meets Chenle’s rowdy group of friends is a chilly Tuesday morning in mid-October. The enchanted ceiling is overcast, threatening more rain, as Jisung arrives in the Great Hall for breakfast. He takes his regular seat alone at the end of the Ravenclaw table, props a book on astrophysics open against the milk jug, and reaches for a slice of toast, but a slender hand snatches it from Jisung’s fingers. Jaemin Na, sixth-year Slytherin, slips into the seat next to Jisung and regards him with a devious smile and appraising eye.

“He’s kind of adorable,” Jaemin coos, “like a startled little mouse.” 

“Agreed,” comes a different voice, higher pitched but oddly resonant, behind Jisung. Jisung whirls to see the speaker, Donghyuck Lee, shoulder to shoulder with the slightly shorter figure of Renjun Huang, a matching glint sparking in both boys’ eyes. Jisung does indeed feel a bit like a mouse– an unfortunate mouse who had fallen into a snake den. 

Fortunately for Jisung, Chenle chooses that moment to enter the Great Hall with fellow Gryffindors Mark Lee and Yukhei Wong. Chenle and Yukhei seem deep in discussion about something, probably quidditch if Jisung was to guess, but Mark elbows Chenle in the side and points toward the snake ambush at the Ravenclaw table. Chenle’s eyes widen momentarily, then narrow in annoyance. He says something to Yukehi before making his way toward Jisung with Mark in tow.

“Last I checked,” Chenle notes as he approaches Renjun and Donghyuck, slinging an arm casually around each boy’s shoulder, “this isn’t your table. Did you snakes get lost?”

“Don’t be a hypocrite,” Renjun rolls his eyes, “you never sit at your house table except on quidditch days.”

Jaemin, still seated next to Jisung, smiles innocently. “We just wanted to meet the boy we’ve been hearing so much about.”

Chenle’s eyes meet Jisung’s for the first time and he offers an apologetic half smile, as if to say, ‘Just ignore them.’

 _“_ Well, now you’ve met him,” Chenle points out, glaring pointedly in a clear _now leave._

“Yes, and he’s lovely,” Donghyuck pipes up, voice dripping sweetness. “And he looks so lonely over here with all these antisocial nerds– no offense, Park,” he adds when Mark elbows him in the side. 

“You’re absolutely right, Donghyuck,” Renjun agrees, voice sounding oddly rehearsed. “Why doesn’t Park come eat with us?”

Jisung freezes as five pairs of eyes turn to him. Normally, he isn’t prone to making impulsive decisions, like agreeing to sit with several people he’s mildly afraid of, but Chenle’s expression, while embarrassed, looks half hopeful.

“Okay,” he hears himself say.

“Oh.” Jaemin blinks, seemingly surprised and disappointed at Jisung’s easy agreement, but he recovers quickly. “Great!” he exclaims, his charming(slightly predatory) grin back in place.

Jaemin and Donghyuck try to place Jisung in between them at the Slytherin table, but Chenle luckily rescues the hapless Ravenclaw, settling Jisung between himself and Mark.

“Sorry about them,” the older Gryffindor boy says, grimacing but still managing to look friendly. “I’d tell you they’re not usually so…”

“Feral?” Chenle suggests from Jisung’s other side.

“Yeah,” Mark laughs. “I’d tell you they aren’t usually so feral, but that would be a lie.” Jisung decides he likes Mark Lee. With his black hair, round glasses, and Gryffindor crest, he looks like Harry Potter in the photos from his Hogwarts days; perhaps that’s why Jisung immediately finds himself trusting the older boy, like how Muggle children immediately love anyone dressed as Santa Claus. Then again, it may just be Mark’s natural friendliness. 

“Watch your mouth, Mark Lee,” Donghyuck scowls at him from across the table. “You might just find it full of slugs.”

“Who’s getting a mouth full of slugs?” says a new voice, and sixth-year Hufflepuff Jeno Lee slides into the seat next to Donghyuck. His eyes lazily scan the faces of his friends, then double back to Jisung. “You aren’t bullying this poor young Ravenclaw, are you Hyuck?”

“Of course not,” huffs Donghyuck. “Jeno, this is Jisung Park.”

Jeno’s eyes widen in recognition, then curl into perfect crescents as he smiles broadly. “The infamous Jisung Park! A pleasure to finally meet you, Chenle talks about you all the–”

“Okay,” Chenle cuts in loudly, the tips of his ears pink. “I’ll handle the introductions. Jisung, this is Renjun Huang, Jaemin Na, Donghyuck Lee, Jeno Lee, and Mark Lee, and no, none of them are related.” All three Lees cringe at the idea.

“You can just call us by our first names,” Jeno interjects. “It’ll be less confusing.”

“Call us all by our first names,” Jaemin chimes in, perfect smile more genuine and friendly than before. “We’re all friends now. Isn’t that right, Junnie?”

“Sure,” Renjun Huang replies in a bored tone, more focused on his breakfast than the conversation, but he shoots Jisung reassuring half smile.

Breakfast at the end of the Slytherin table is every bit as chaotic up close as it seemed from far away, maybe even more so. Jisung doesn’t join in the chatter that flows around him, content to simply eat his toast and listen to the conversation. He would feel hopelessly out of place, but Chenle laughs and nudges Jisung in the ribs, explains inside jokes, and tells Jaemin off for trying to interrogate him.

When Jisung and Chenle stand up, first to leave for class, Mark says, “It was nice to meet you, Jisung.”

“Yeah,” agrees Jeno. “You’re welcome to eat with us whenever you want, if you can stand these clowns.”

“Yah!” protests Renjun. “This isn’t even your table.” He turns to Jisung, expression morphing into a friendly smile. “On behalf of Slytherin house, you’re welcome to sit at this table whenever you like.”

“Thanks.” Jisung smiles and it doesn’t feel forced. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


“Alright class,” Professor Seo claps his hands together. “Today is the big day!” He gestures to the large black trunk, rattling ominously at the front of the classroom. “We’ve covered the theory and the defensive spell,” he continues theatrically, “now it’s time for you to face your worst fears.”

The whole class shifts nervously, although the Gryffindors do their best to hide their trepidation. “Hell yeah,” cheers Heejin Jeon, her vigor not quite managing to mask how pale her face had gone, but several other Gyffindors agree loudly, earning annoyed looks from the Ravenclaw half of the class.

“I like the attitude, Miss Jeon,” Seo grins, “but bravery isn’t the only thing needed to defeat a boggart. You need to come up with a strategy. So, before I bring out the boggart, take a few minutes with the person next to you to discuss your fears and think of ways to make them funny.”

“So, Jisung Park,” Chenle says in a low pitched voice like a horror movie trailer(although Jisung doubts Chenle’s ever seen one) as the classroom fills with nervous chatter. “What’s your worst fear?”

“I don’t really have one,” Jisung responds, brows furrowed. “There are lots of things that are scary, but I can’t think of anything I’m truly terrified of.”

“That’s a very Gryffindor thing to say,” Chenle smirks.

Jisung snorts. “No, Gryffindors only _pretend_ to be fearless.”

“That’s true,” Chenle agrees, then suddenly slams his hands onto Jisung’s desk with a bang, causing the other boy to jump and let out an embarrassing yelp. “There! I scared you.”

“No, you just startled me,” scowls Jisung, slapping Chenle on the arm. “Jerk.”

“Fine,” huffs Chenle, “What about spiders?”

Jisung wrinkles his nose. “Spiders are gross, but not scary. I could just step on them.”

“What about those giant killer spiders that used to live in the forest?”

“Acromantulas?”

“Yeah, the huge bastards.”

"The last colony in Britain was wiped out in the battle of Hogwarts," Jisung points out matter-of-factly. "They're pretty much extinct everywhere else too."

"Why do you even know that?" Chenle gripes. "You're not even taking a magical creatures class."

"Common knowledge," Jisung shrugs, ignoring Chenle's snort. "Anyway, a good stunning spell could take out an acromantula if I ever met one. They don't pose any threat to me, so why should I fear them?"

"Fear isn't about logic, Park," says Chenle exasperatedly, leaning forward and studying Jisung closely as though trying to read his fears on his forehead. "What makes your heart beat fast? What makes you want to run away?"

 _You,_ is Jisung's first thought. Chenle's is far too close, almost nose to nose, leaning into Jisung's space and forcing rational thought to flee. 

"What's your fear, then?" is what he ends up saying, and Chenle leans back into his own space, allowing Jisung to breathe. Even so, Jisung wishes he hadn't asked; he might give up a lifetime of breathing to undo the fearful, forlorn look on Chenle's face.

 _That's stupid,_ Jisung chides himself, _this is a lesson about boggarts; of course he's going to be scared._

"My brother," Chenle's says in a somber voice quite unlike his usual cheerful tone. "Sicheng. He's an auror. My biggest fear is that one day he'll get himself killed in some heroic way. Gryffindor through and through, that one," he adds with an ironic smile.

“Oh,” is the only response Jisung can muster. He wracks his brain for something to say but comes up empty, which is frustrating. What is the point of being one of the smartest wizards of his generation if he can’t even think of a way to comfort his friend?

“My plan to beat the boggart,” Chenle continues, still subdued but slightly more enthusiastic, “is to make it take the shape of Sicheng the day he failed his Apparation test instead.” Chenle grins. “He left all his hair behind, including his eyebrows.”

Jisung lets out a surprised laugh. “I bet you never let him live that down.”

“Nope,” Chenle agrees happily. “He looked like a knock off Lord Voldemort.”

“Okay, class,” Professor Seo calls. “Everyone stand up.” They obey, and the desks neatly stack themselves against the walls at a flick of Seo’s wand. 

“Remember,” Seo instructs calmly as the students form a hesitant semi-circle around the rattling trunk, “Speak the incantation clearly: _Riddikulus!_ Make sure to picture exactly what you want the boggart to become. Who wants to start? Perhaps Miss Jeon, as you were so eager?” Seo’s eyes twinkle at Heejin, who looks much less sure of herself, but she straightens her shoulders and grips her wand tightly.

The other students back away further as Heejin steps forward. “Ready?” Seo asks, wand pointed at the latch of the trunk. When Heejin nods, Seo counts down from three, then sends the trunk flying open.

A whirlwind of grey and white flies straight at Heejin, and it takes Jisung a moment to recognise it as a flock of birds– pigeons, with beady orange eyes and sharp beaks tugging at Heejin’s long black hair. She lets out a shriek, but quickly stifles it, eyes determined as she raises her wand.

“ _Riddicukulus!”_ cries Heejin, and suddenly the birds are featherless, headless, and golden brown- a dosen miniature roast chickens floating around Heejin’s head like an absurd halo. Several people laugh, including Heejin.

“Nice work!” Seo cheers. “Next person, step forward.”

As more of his classmates face their fears, Jisung grows uneasy; he doesn’t have a clue what form the boggart will take, much less how to make that form seem funny. He likes knowing his options, taking the analytical approach to every situation, but he’s flying completely blind this time. 

“Mr. Zhong, forward!” calls Seo, and Chenle sets his jaw as he steps toward the puppy that Felix Lee had made out of a werewolf.

With a _crack_ the dog becomes the form of a slender young man, with elegant features and dark hair- Chenle’s brother Sicheng, Jisung assumes. As he watches, the young man’s features shrivel, eyes becoming sunken, skin cracking away to reveal a grinning skull underneath. 

Chenle’s hand trembles as he raises his wand, but his voice is strong. “ _Riddukulus!”_ The figure stumbles back with the force of the incantation; Sicheng’s flesh is back, but his hair is gone, leaving his head smooth and round as an egg. Chenle cackles, high pitched peals of laughter knocking into the boggart as forcefully as the spell.

“Fantastic,” Seo praises through his own laughter. “I’m sending an owl to Sicheng immediately.”

“Please don’t,” Chenle calls back.

“Mr. Park, your turn,” Seo says, schooling his face back into ‘teacher-mode.’

Jisung can’t return the encouraging smile Chenle gives him as Jisung takes his place in the middle of the room.

The boggart dissolves, then reforms into- something. At first, it seems humanoid, but it’s made of some black tarlike substance, churning and bubbling like flowing lava. The form writhes, stretching upward until it towers above Jisung, limbs lengthening, glistening black arms growing claws. No sooner does Jisung notice that the face is blank, then the blackness of it’s misshapen head splits in half, forming a wide, grinning mouth. As Jisung watches in horror, the gaping maw fills itself with glistening white teeth, gleaming bright against the inky darkness.

The thing reaches out, not with its arms, but with tendrils of darkness that sprout from its chest. Jisung is frozen to the spot, mind too occupied in trying to keep up with the creature’s constant shifting to even consider moving.

“Jisung!” Chenle’s voice shouts, and then the tall figure of Professor Seo is between Jisung and the boggart, forcing it back into the trunk. The lid closes with a bang, echoing in the silent room. 

Jisung glances around at his classmates, who are all staring at him with wide, horrified eyes.

“Park,” Heejin finally speaks, “what the hell _was_ that?”

And Jisung, the smartest wizard of his generation, the one who knows the answer to every question, says, “I have no idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave your guesses about what Jisung's fear is in the comments! It will be discussed in the next chapter(which will hopefully be out sooner than this one was but who knows)
> 
> As always, feel free to come yell at me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/see_thevision) or [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/nctseethevision/)


	6. Jinxes and Hexes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which (almost) everyone gets detention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates within a week? What madness is this?

By the end of the week, the story has spread to every corner of the castle: Jisung Park, prodigy child, the boy who was performing N.E.W.T. level charms in his second year, couldn’t manage a simple boggart banishing. 

“Don’t mind them,” Chenle insists as mocking whispers follow them into the Great Hall for dinner on Friday. “They’re just jealous that you’re good at literally everything else.”

Jisung grimaces as they make their way toward the Slytherin table, where Jisung has slowly but surely begun to be integrated into the group. He knows Chenle is right; other students, especially his fellow Ravenclaws, have always felt threatened by his skill and intelligence, hence why he never had any friends. They’re desperate to exploit any chink in Jisung’s armor to make themselves feel less inferior– it’s basic psychology. Still, knowing something and feeling it are two different things, and Jisung can’t help but feel ashamed that he was the only one in his class who failed to tackle the boggart.

“Hey, Park,” jeers a voice as they pass the Ravenclaw table. It’s a sixth year boy who Jisung has never even spoken to before. “Couldn’t take a boggart, huh? I bet walking textbooks have no sense of humour, probably couldn’t think of anything funny.”

Jisung feels Chenle stiffen beside him, but Jisung resolutely ignores the voice and continues dragging Chenle toward the Slytherin table. It’s nothing he hasn’t heard already the past few days, which is why he’s been spending even less time than usual in the Ravenclaw common room, choosing to hide away in the Room of Requirement instead.

“No comeback?” the voice calls after them. “Ravenclaws are supposed to be witty, aren’t we? Stupid mudblood.”

This time, Jisung can’t stop Chenle from whirling around, tugging his wand out of his pocket and leveling it at the older Ravenclaw boy.

“ _Anteoculatia!”_ shouts Chenle, but his isn’t the only voice suddenly ringing out. Jisung can’t pick out the individual incantations all recited at once, but six different colored bolts of energy pummel into the jeering boy, blasting him backwards into the table, where he slumps to the stone floor.

Jisung looks around wildly to see Mark, Renjun, Jeno, Jaemin, and Donghyuck all on their feet, wands in their hands and murderous expressions on their faces.

The offending boy is on the floor– legs locked together, antlers sprouting from the top of his head, yellowish goo leaking from his nose, trying to scream but unable to as his tongue has attached itself to the roof of his mouth.

“What in Merlin’s name is going on here?” shouts a stern voice, and Professor Kim, Deputy Headmaster and head of Slytherin House, strides down from the high table, followed by the other heads of houses, Professors Qian, Seo, and Jung. He looks from the boy on the floor, hexed into oblivion, to his attackers, all of whom are still seething, to Jisung, still frozen with shock. He massages his temples. “You two,” he points at the students who were sitting to either side of the unfortunate boy, “Take your friend here to the hospital wing. And you,” he turns to the cluster of boys at the end of the Slytherin table, “please accompany me and your heads of houses to my office.”

Doyoung Kim’s office would have been fascinating to Jisung if he wasn’t so nervous. Strange objects, bottles, and books line the shelves, but Jisung looks at his feet. Chenle slips a hand into Jisung’s and squeezes reassuringly.

“Don’t worry,” he says in a low voice, “you didn’t even hex the bastard. You won’t be in trouble.”

“That’s right,” Jaemin agrees, “so I’d appreciate it if you can bring me snacks while I’m in detention for the rest of the year because of this.”

“Sit,” Professor Kim instructs, conjuring enough chairs for all seven boys, while the teachers remain standing. “Who would like to explain what just happened?” They remain silent, staring at the ground. “Mark Lee? Anything to say? As a prefect, I would have expected better.” Mark hangs his head, but doesn't respond.

“Well, if you don’t want to speak to _us,_ ” says Professor Qian says, “we may have to call the Headmaster. Attacking another student is a very serious offense.”

“Please, sir,” Jisung blurts, “it was my fault.”

“No, it wasn’t!” protests Chenle.

“But–”

“Shut up, Jisung,” Chenle snaps, turning to the teachers. “Professor Seo, remember the day we fought the boggart?” Seo nods. “Well, that slimeball was mocking Jisung for it. He called Jisung a- a-” Chenle falters, unwilling to speak the word.

“He called him a _mudblood_ , Professor,” Donghyuck pipes up, voice high with fury. “I don’t care how much detention I get, I’d hex that son of a banshee all over again if I had the chance.”

“That is enough, Mr. Lee,” says Professor Kim, but he seems somewhat less angry with them. “No matter the provocation, fighting is against school rules. It will be up to your heads of houses to decide your punishments.” 

Donghyuck’s face screws up like he’d swallowed a lemon, but he doesn’t protest as he and the other Slytherins watch the rest of them file out of the room, Jeno trailing after Professor Jung, Chenle and Mark herded along by Professor Seo, Jisung meekly following Professor Qian.

Chenle looks back at Jisung. “Good luck,” he mouths before turning a corner toward the west wing, where Professor Seo’s office is located.

A hand settles on Jisung’s shoulder, making him jump. “Don’t look so scared, Mr. Park,” Professor Qian laughs. “You’re not in trouble.”

“I– I’m not?”

“Of course not,” says Qian, “you didn’t break any rules. I would still like to have a chat with you if you don’t mind.”

Jisung has been in Professor Qian’s office many times. Whenever Jisung had a question about magical theory and he can’t find the answer in a book, he comes to Qian. He’s spent several afternoons with the friendly professor, discussing wandlore or astronomy.

“Have a seat,” Qian invites, waving his wand toward his tea kettle, which immediately begins to steam. “Would you like some tea?”

“Yes please,” replies Jisung, settling into his usual armchair. Qian hands him a mug and takes the seat across from him, setting his own tea on the desk.

“I didn’t know you were friends with Chenle and the others,” Qian observes.

“It’s… recent,” Jisung shifts uncomfortably.

“I think that’s wonderful,” says Qian, sipping his tea. “I’m good friends with Chenle’s family, you know. He’s a good kid, and the others are too, even if they can be troublemakers sometimes. It’s nice to see you making friends.”

Jisung doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he just takes a sip of tea.

“Would you like to tell me about this boggart incident that Chenle mentioned?” Qian asks, his tone making it clear that Jisung doesn’t have to if he doesn’t feel comfortable. That’s one of the things Jisung likes most about Professor Qian: he lets Jisung open up at his own pace.

“I guess,” Jisung concedes after a moment. 

When Jisung is finished recounting the story, Qian hums thoughtfully. “That’s fascinating. That you wouldn’t even recognize your own boggart… very odd.”

“Yeah,” Jisung agrees. “Why do I not know what I’m afraid of?”

“I think,” says Qian slowly, “that it’s not that you don’t know what you’re afraid of; you’re afraid of what you don’t know. The unknown can be very frightening, that’s why many people are afraid of the dark.”

Jisung tilts his head, considering. “But I love the unknown. It excites me, that’s why I want to learn about everything I can.”

“A great quality of yours,” Qian agrees. “Perhaps you are not so much afraid of the unknown, but the unknowable?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said your boggart kept shifting, changing so you couldn’t fully process it, right?” Jisung nods. “That may be the key. Your mind is your greatest weapon, so you’re afraid of not being able to use it.”

“That… actually makes sense,” Jisung admits, shuddering at the memory of the unknowable creature.

“There you have it,” says Qian. “Not conquering that boggart is nothing to be ashamed of. Our fears say a lot about who we are, and you, Jisung Park, are unstoppable.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do y'all think of Jisung's boggart? (Shout out to Boredom_Itself for guessing pretty much spot on)  
> Researching different kinds of hexes and jinxes for this chapter made me sad about my Hogwarts letter not coming all over again ;-;


	7. Airplanes and Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Chenle needs a favor (and accomplishes Arthur Weasley's life dream)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I... honestly don't know where this chapter came from but it's here now so I hope you enjoy!

Jisung is on his way to the Room of Requirement after classes when he's accosted by a flurry of white feathers, which he recognises after a moment as the rather hyperactive owl that brings Chenle his mail. The bird drops a small roll of parchment on Jisung's head, hoots triumphantly, then streaks off down the corridor.

 _Jisung,_ the parchment reads, _I need your help! It's urgent! Come to the library!_

There's no signature, but Jisung recognises the bright red ink instantly—Chenle.

What could be so urgent? Jisung's imagination goes into overdrive—maybe the friends of the boy who had mocked Jisung were taking revenge. Scenarios of Chenle cornered in the library by several students with their wands drawn flood Jisung's mind, and he forces himself to get a grip. If that were the case, how would Chenle have gotten to his owl to send Jisung the note?

He's starting to understand what Chenle meant about fear not being rational, though, because despite his reasoning, Jisung runs all the way to the library.

Chenle, along with Jeno, is sitting at a table near the tall windows in the far end of the library. He has his cheek cupped in his hand, gazing dejectedly out at the grounds, where the lake shimmers slate grey under the cloudy sky, contrasting the fiery shades of the leaves in the forbidden forest.

While he does seem to be in a bad mood, Jisung determines that Chenle isn't in any urgent danger, so he takes a moment to catch his breath and straighten his robes, in hopes that it won't be obvious that he just ran halfway across that castle for no good reason. When he deems himself somewhat presentable, he slips from between the rows of shelves and approaches.

Chenle's glum face brightens immediately when he spots him. "Jisung, thank Merlin! You got my owl?"

"Yeah, I did," says Jisung. "What did you need?"

"I need you to explain to me how airplanes work," Chenle says earnestly, as if the secret of aerodynamics is a matter of life and death.

 _"That's_ your urgent problem?" Jisung laughs. "Why do you need to know? And I'm to only one you could think of to ask?"

"I'm failing Muggle Studies, and your parents are muggles," Chenle points out.

"Yeah, but they're not pilots or engineers." Judging from the blank look on Chenle's face, he has no idea what either of those words mean. "Isn't Jeno muggleborn too?"

Jeno hardly looks up from his own homework as he says, "I don't care how things work, as long as they do."

"He's a dumbass, is what he means," grumbles Chenle. "You're muggleborn _and_ smart. So do you know how airplanes stay up, or not?"

"I do," Jisung admits, "but it's kind of hard to explain. If I had a book or diagram…"

Chenle gestures to the table in front of him. "This is every book the library has on muggle technology and culture."

It's only about a dozen books, and all of them were obviously written by wizards who with no idea what they were talking about. Jisung spots one entitled, _A Guide to Muggle Deities_ with an image of Mickey Mouse on the front _,_ and struggles to keep his laughter quiet to avoid the wrath of the librarian. 

Jeno chuckles along, eyes curved into crescents. "I read that one last year. The chapter on the Cult of Elvis is my favorite."

"Not helpful," Chenle says. 

Jisung has to agree; the library doesn't provide the kinds of materials Chenle needs. However…

"Come with me," he tells Chenle before he can change his mind. Jeno waves boredly as Chenle and Jisung leave the library.

They’re a few corridors away from their destination when a softly glowing silver figure intercepts them.

“Jisung!” Chuu calls. “Where have you been?”

“Sorry, Chuu,” Jisung apologizes half-heartedly. “I got sidetracked.”

Chuu’s translucent eyes turn to Chenle, who watches the interaction with mild bemusement. “Who’s this?”

“Chenle Zhong,” Chenle introduces himself with a smile.

“Oh, so _this_ is Chenle,” Chuu squeals with a mischievous glint in her eye. Jisung tries to elbow her in the side, but passes straight through her image, leaving his arm feeling as though it had been dunked in a bucket of ice. Chuu ignores Jisung completely, grinning brightly at Chenle. “I’m Jiwoo Kim, but you can call me Chuu.”

“Nearly Headless Nick mentioned you,” Chenle exclaimes. “You fought in the Battle of Hogwarts, right?”

“I did indeed,” Chuu puffs up with pride. 

Jisung rolls his eyes and grabs Chenle’s arm, pulling him along the corridor before he can be regaled by Chuu’s enthusiastic retelling of her own death. Jisung himself had been on the receiving end of that speech too many times. Chuu glides after them anyway, shooting suggestive glances from Jisung to Chenle and wiggling her eyebrows.

“Just wait here for a minute,” Jisung tells Chenle when they reach the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy and his ballerina trolls. Chenle watches in confusion as Jisung walks past the opposite wall once, twice, three times, focusing on his need for the study room. He hears a gasp from behind him when the door appears.

Jisung pushes the door open, gesturing for Chenle to follow. He extends no such invitation to Chuu, but that doesn’t stop her from gliding right through the door before he even has it fully open.

For the most part, the room is the same—the softly crackling fire, the blue decor, Haseul's empty frame above the mantle—but Jisung's eye catches on the one difference. There are two chairs by the fire: Jisung's usual velvet-covered armchair, and a new, squashy looking leather one, which Chenle immediately throws himself onto.

“It’s just like the ones in the Gryffindor common room,” he marvels. “What is this place?”

Jisung gives him a brief explanation of the Room, Chuu chiming in with her memories of using the place as a passage into the castle during the Battle of Hogwarts.

"Is Chuu talking about her death _again?"_ Haseul asks as she sidles back into her frame, making Chenle jump and look around for the source of the voice. The sight of an unfamiliar boy in the room seems to startle Haseul as well. "Who are you?" she asks, glancing from Chenle to Jisung.

"This is Chenle _,"_ Chuu introduces before either boy can speak, throwing Haseul a meaningful glance.

" _Oh,"_ Haseul says, eyeing Chenle with increased interest. "So _this_ is the Chenle Zhong we've been hearing so much about."

This must be how Chenle felt when his friends cornered Jisung, Jisung thinks as his cheeks warm. He glares at his friends' grinning faces—both at once, since Chuu's transparent form is hovering in front of Haseul's frame, forming a double layer of mischievous smiles.

Chenle takes it all in stride, flashing his most charming smile. "The one and only. A pleasure to meet you."

"And he's polite too!" titters Haseul. "You'd better keep this one around, Jisung."

Jisung coughs awkwardly. "Yeah. So, anyway. Airplanes."

As always, the bookshelf has exactly the volumes Jisung needs. He sits in his armchair and flips open a large book, turning to a diagram of an airplane wing. 

Chuu soon tires of the "technical mumbo jumbo" as she calls it, and leaves the boys alone in favor of whispering to Haseul, no doubt gossiping about their favorite subject— Jisung. 

Chenle couldn't be more amazed by the concept of physics, but Jisung appreciates his enthusiasm. As animatedly explains how lift works, he realizes that Chenle is the first person he's ever met, aside from his parents and maybe Professor Qian, who actually _listens_. Jisung learned young not to talk too much; his peers weren't interested in his rambling about mathematical theory or classic literature. His enthusiasm was shut down time and time again until he learned to keep it to himself. 

But Chenle seems to feed off Jisung's excitement, eyes wide and encouraging even though he probably doesn't understand everything Jisung is saying. When Jisung catches himself in the middle of a rant on Amelia Earhart and apologizes for getting carried away, Chenle laughs and flicks him on the forehead.

"Never apologize for being enthusiastic, Jisung," he scolds good-naturedly. "If it's important to you, it's important to me."

That makes Jisung hide his face behind a book while Chuu and Haseul, who were apparently paying more attention than Jisung thought, coo appreciatively.

By the time they leave the Room of Requirement, Chenle claims he knows enough about aerodynamics to construct his own airplane. 

"Sure," laughs Jisung, "and tomorrow you'll build a space ship."

"A _what?"_

Jisung decides the leave an explanation of the moon landing for another day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *ahem* stan loona  
> This was definitely a filler chapter but I wanted Chenle to meet Jisung's wacky friends and it ended up being this long and I didn't want to put it in with the next one so it became it's own chapter idk


	8. Hogsmeade and Halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Chenle misses out on the fun

“Hogsmeade this weekend,” Jeno reminds them at breakfast on the last Thursday of October. "On Halloween."

“Oh yeah,” Donghyuck perks up, happy for an excuse to ignore Mark, who’s been trying to help the younger boy with his transfiguration homework.

“Fine, fail the class for all I care,” mutters Mark with a long-suffering sigh. (Mark does care, Jisung has learned over the past few weeks, and will probably stay up late tonight to help Donghyuck finish.)

Donghyuck ignores him. “My last Skiving Snackbox is almost empty, I need to stop by Weasley’s.”

“What you _need_ to do is stop skipping class,” Mark protests. The two continue to bicker while the other boys ignore them.

“You guys are all going, right?” Jaemin asks. 

Renjun and Jeno nod, but Chenle sighs. “You’ll have to go without me,” he says. “My detention is set for Saturday morning.”

Renjun pats him comfortingly on the back. “Damn, that sucks.”

“What about you, Jisung?” Jaemin presses.

Jisung glances at Chenle, who smiles encouragingly. The prospect of spending a day with this hyper bunch without Chenle there is daunting, and Jisung wants to say no, but Jaemin has his puppy eyes turned full force.

“I guess I’ll come,” Jisung relents, thinking that Jaemin Na’s puppy eyes must be imbued with some sort of persuasion charm.

Jaemin whoops, leaning over to pinch Jisung’s cheek. Mark and Donghyuck’s argument has devolved into a wrestling match on the other side of the table, as Donghyuck attempts to put Mark’s completed essay in the milk jug. Renjun, for some reason, has Jeno in a headlock. 

Jisung immediately regrets his decision.

  
  
  


The morning of the Halloween dawns sunny and clear, as if the rain of the past weeks was nothing but a dream.

“Of course, the best weather we’ve had in ages, and I’m stuck in detention,” complains Chenle, glaring mournfully at the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, which displays the brilliant blue sky and occasional wispy clouds

“It’ll be back to raining soon enough,” Renjun assures. 

“Not comforting,” Chenle pouts, picking at his breakfast.

“We’ll bring you back plenty of sweets,” Jaemin promises, standing and picking up his bag. “Speaking of which, we should get going if we want to beat the rush to Honeydukes. See you tonight at the feast!"

Chenle bids them a forlorn farewell, and the six other boys head for the entrance hall, and then out onto the grounds, following the path that leads to the village.

The sixth years lead the way, the four of them chattering excitedly. Mark lags behind a few steps, keeping pace with Jisung, for which the younger is grateful. He feels awkward and out of place without Chenle, but Mark’s cheerful friendliness puts him more at ease.

“We haven’t even gotten to Honeydukes yet, and they’re already so hyper,” Mark sighs in exasperation, but his smile is fond as he watches Jaemin shove Donghyuck off the path.

“How did you guys all meet anyway?” Jisung asks. He’s been wondering for a while, how six boys of different houses and ages formed such a close knit group.

Mark grins at the question. “Well, Donghyuck and I were friends first. Our families are close, so we’ve known each other since we were kids. I started Hogwarts first, but he sent me so many owls that first year, he managed to be just as annoying as when we’re together.” Jisung chuckles at that. At first he’d been thrown off by Mark and Donghyuck constantly bickering, but over the weeks, he’s come to understand that that’s just the way their friendship works—for far longer than he’d assumed, evidently.

“Those four met on the Hogwarts Express their first year,” Mark continues, gesturing at the sixth years, who are now chasing each other down the path, shrieking and laughing. “They’ve been inseparable ever since, even though Jeno was sorted into a different house from the rest of them. He only ever sits at the Hufflepuff table when he’s got a quidditch game, anyway.”

“Jeno plays quidditch too?”

“He’s the Hufflepuff quidditch captain,” Mark says. “Renjun’s the only one who isn’t on a house team. Haven’t you ever seen them play?”

Jisung shrugs awkwardly. “I’ve never been to a match.”

“Oh,” Mark says, surprised but quickly recovering. “Well, you should come to the next one. Anyway, Donghyuck introduced me to the others, and I’ve never been able to escape.”

“As if you’d want to,” laughs Jisung, and Mark half-shrugs in assent. “What about Chenle?”

“He showed up the next year. His brother Sicheng was still in school back then, a few years older than me, and he told me to look after Chenle. I told him I didn’t want to be a babysitter, but Chenle turned out to be a lot of fun. We just kind of adopted him.”

“Three Slytherins, two Gryffindors, one Hufflepuff,” remarks Jisung. “What are the chances.”

“And one Ravenclaw,” adds Mark, reaching out to ruffle Jisung’s hair in a distinctly brotherly way. “Now we’ve got the whole set.”

Jisung, flustered, tries to duck away from Mark’s hand, but Mark just laughs and throws an arm around Jisung’s shoulders. “Come on, they’re leaving us behind,” Mark says, and begins running after the others, pulling Jisung along with him.

  
  
  


By the time the six boys return to the castle that evening, coin purses significantly lighter, but bags weighed down by parcels full of candy and nicknacks, Jisung feels full of glowing warmth– and not from the butterbeer they'd drunk in The Three Broomsticks.

He had grown used to the idea of being Chenle's friend, but he hadn't really considered himself a part of the group. It seemed to Jisung that there was him, and there was them, and Chenle was the one link between the two worlds.

Today proved him wrong. Jaemin fussed over him, buying him sweets and pinching his cheeks like an overbearing grandmother. Donghyuck threw an arm around his shoulder and pulled him off to look at pranks in Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, whispering conspiratorially about his plans to sneak a Canary Cream into Mark's food. Renjun, who was nearly as bookish as Jisung, accompanied him to the bookstore, where they wandered the musty stacks until the others pulled them away to the Three Broomsticks, where Mark bought Jisung a butterbeer and made sure he was included in the raucous conversation. 

Over the course of the day, Jisung became less quiet. He allowed his sarcastic quips, normally kept to himself, to spill out, prompting laughter from the others. 

They, along with most of the rest of the school, return to the castle just in time for the feast, the rich smell of pumpkin and spices permeating the air. The Great Hall looks spectacular, the normal floating candles replaced by enormous carved pumpkins casting a flickering orange glow over the ghost orchestra playing on a raised dais at the front of the hall. Jisung spots Chuu with some sort of silvery stringed instrument, and returns her beaming smile.

Chenle, waiting glumly at the end of the Slytherin table, cheers up significantly as the others shower him in sweets.

"Trick or treat," Jisung says, tossing Chenle a package of chocolate frogs. 

"What's that mean?" asks Chenle.

Jisung does his best to explain muggle Halloween traditions, describing memories from his childhood. As always, Chenle listens with rapt attention, but to Jisung's surprise, the others seem interested as well. Jeno, the only other muggleborn, chimes in with his own childhood anecdotes, and by the time the feast truly begins, Donghyuck and Jaemin are so entranced with the concept of 'trick-or-treating' that Mark can barely talk them out of sneaking out of the castle to find the nearest muggle town and get some free candy.

"The candy isn't the best part, anyway," Jisung assures as the golden platters fill with food. "Nowhere near as good as a Hogwarts feast. The best part is the costumes." 

"Maybe we should have our own costume party," Donghyuck says, and it doesn't take a genius to tell his innocence is false. "Mark should dress up as a bird."

Perfectly on cue, Mark bites into a pastry(slipped onto his plate by Donghyuck) and, with a pop, transforms into large yellow bird. The table erupts with laughter, and by the time Mark molts his feathers and returns to human form a few seconds later, Donghyuck has a head start dashing away across the Great Hall.

As they watch Mark chase Donghyuck across the room, Chenle leans closer to Jisung and says in a voice just loud enough for Jisung and no one else to hear, "Did you have a good time today?"

Jisung nods enthusiastically, his cheeks beginning to ache from all the smiling and laughing he's done today.

"They weren't too much?" Chenle presses.

"No," Jisung replies, glancing at the laughing boys around him. "No, I think they're just enough."

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NCT 127 is coming back to America but I'd have to drive 11 hours to the closest venue... I hate living in the middle of nowhere


	9. Flying and Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jisung finally goes to a quidditch match

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am... am I writing this fic because I have no friends at school and I'm lonely? I'm psychoanalyzing myself now...
> 
> Anyways, this chapter was soooo much fun to write, I hope you guys enjoy! Let me know what you think in the comments

November begins, and Jisung barely sees Chenle, Mark, Donghyuck, and Jaemin except for meals. The first quidditch match of the season, Gryffindor vs Slytherin, is set for the second weekend of November, and both teams train furiously nearly every day. 

“It’s a good thing I have you, Jisung,” Chenle says on Sunday, six days before the game, staring at the weeks-worth of homework he hasn’t had time to do. “I’d never get through all this by myself.”

Jisung shrugs. “That’s what you jocks get for spending all your time on sports.”

“You'd understand if you played quidditch,” Chenle says. "Have you ever tried?"

"I haven't been on a broomstick since flying lessons first year," says Jisung. "I don't have one of my own."

"I'll have to take you flying on mine," Chenle says, grinning excitedly.

Jisung raises an eyebrow. "Finish your homework first."

Chenle groans and returns his attention to his textbooks.

  
  


"Are you coming tomorrow?" Mark asks Jisung at dinner on Friday, the night before the match.

"He'd better," Jaemin says. "Trust me, Jisung, you won't want to miss these losers getting their asses kicked."

"As if," scoffs Chenle, "you guys don't stand a chance." He turns to Jisung with wide, imploring eyes. "You will come, though, won't you?" 

"I– I guess," Jisung concedes. 

"You can sit with me and Jeno," says Renjun. 

Jisung isn't a fan of the crowds and noise that always come with sporting events, but Jeno's reassuring smile makes him feel more at ease

"Okay," he agrees, "I'll be there."

Chenle grins, eyes sparkling. "Perfect!"

  
  


On the morning of the match, for the first time since Jisung has known them, Chenle and Mark sit at the Gryffindor table. They huddle with their team, scarlet quidditch robes contrasting the emerald green of the Slytherin team on the other side of the hall. Chenle’s face is uncharacteristically serious as he nods at whatever Yukhei is saying.

Jisung hovers in the doorway, unsure where to go, until he hears someone call his name. He turns to see Renjun and Jeno in the neutral territory of the Hufflepuff table. 

Renjun is, of course, fully decked out in the colors of his house. Jeno, on the other hand, apparently had difficulty picking sides; he wears a red Gryffindor hat in bizarre contrast to the Slytherin scarf wound around his neck and the yellow Hufflepuff house crest emblazoned on his chest.

“You look like a traffic light,” Jisung informs him.

“Good morning to you, too,” snorts the fellow muggle-born.

With only the three of them, breakfast is a relatively calm affair. Jeno passes the time by trying to explain the rules of quidditch to Jisung, and remarking on the weather conditions for the match.

As students begin to trickle out of the Great Hall down towards the quidditch pitch, Chenle breaks off from his team and scurries over to the Hufflepuff table. Jisung stands to greet him, while Jeno and Renjun merely look on with raised eyebrows.

“Hey,” Chenle says, breathless.

“Hey,” responds Jisung. “Good luck out there.”

Chenle shoots him a cocky smirk. “I don’t need luck, I’ve got talent.” Jisung snorts, and Chenle’s smile widens.

“I brought you something,” Chenle says, holding up a length of thick knit fabric, striped red and gold– a Gryffindor scarf. He steps closer and his hands deftly wrap the scarf around Jisung’s neck. Jisung’s pulse jumps as Chenle’s fingers brush his skin.

“Cheer for me,” Chenle says, hands lingering on Jisung’s shoulders, eyes sparking. “I’m going to win this game.”

And then he’s gone, catching up with the rest of his team on their way outside. 

Jisung is sure his face matches the scarf around his neck as Jeno whistles, long and low, and Renjun mutters, “What a drama queen.”

The weather is clear, but cold enough that Jisung is grateful for the thick scarf as they climb to their seats. The teams haven’t yet emerged from their waiting rooms, probably getting one last pep talk from their captains, but the commentator is already speaking, listing the names and positions of the players of each team.

 _“To no one’s surprise after his spectacular season last year, Chenle Zhong remains on the Gryffindor team as a Chaser,”_ booms the magically magnified voice of Kunhang Wong.

“Yangyang commentates all the games he’s not playing in,” Renjun says. “He always spends the time before matches roasting all the players. Far more entertaining if you ask me.”

“You don’t have to mean to be funny,” Jeno protests, ever the Hufflepuff.

Renjun’s response is drowned out by the roar of the crowd as the two teams walk out onto the quidditch pitch. Jisung can see Chenle’s excited grin even from a distance. He spots Mark next to Chenle, and Jaemin and Donghyuck on the other team, both gripping their broomsticks like weapons.

Yukhei steps forward to shake hands with Hyejoo Son, the captain of the Slytherin team, her hand disappearing in his huge one. Though Yukhei towers a full head over her, Hyejoo’s sharp, wolflike gaze doesn’t falter.

“Players, mount your brooms,” the referee calls.

The whistle blows, and seven Slytherins, seven Gryffindors, and four balls shoot skyward.

 _“Slytherin’s Hyunjin Kim with the quaffle, quick pass to Hyejoo Son, who passes to Jungeun Kim,”_ Kunhang’s voice rings out. _“Slytherin has a strong group of chasers this year.”_

Jisung squints as the blurs of green and red speed toward the opposite goal post where Mark waits, ready to block the goal. As the Slytherin chasers near the hoops, a smaller black ball hurtles toward them, forcing them to scatter, Jungeun Kim dropping the Quaffle.

_“Nice shot by Gryffindor Beater and captain, Yukhei Wong. Heejin Jeon of Gryffindor in possession of the quaffle, dodges a bludger hit by Slytherin Donghyuck Lee, passes to Chenle Zhong.”_

Jisung’s heartbeat picks up as Chenle snatches the quaffle out of the air, tucking it protectively beneath his arm, and streaks off toward the Slytherin goal, his fellow chasers flying in formation to either side to keep the other players away. They’re still nearly a third of the field away from the goal posts, where Jaemin hovers menacingly, when Chenle slows suddenly, letting the Quaffle slip from under his arm to his hands. Chenle pulls back, hesitates for just a moment, then takes the seemingly impossible shot. At the same moment, Dejun Xiao hits a bludger directly at Jaemin’s face, forcing the keeper to dodge to the side just as the Quaffle sails neatly through the middle hoop.

_“Gryffindor scores! Gryffindor now in the lead, ten points to zero.”_

The red-clad members of the crowd cheer and hollar, and Jisung finds himself on his feet screaming his lungs out.

 _Damn,_ Jisung thinks as Chenle grins triumphantly, _that was kind of hot._

Jisung freezes as the thought crosses his mind. That’s… new. Objectively, he knows that Chenle is handsome or Heejin Jeon is beautiful, but he’s never felt attraction for anyone before. Attraction? Is that what he’s feeling? 

As the game continues, the analytical side of his brain whirs like a machine. Does he like boys? He’s never given it much thought, as he’d never really liked anyone that way. Maybe he just like jocks? No, that’s not it, he thinks as Yukhei’s swings his bat, arm muscles flexed, and Jisung feels nothing. Is it because Chenle is his friend? No, that’s not it either, he realises as Mark blocks a goal, snatching the quaffle out of the air with incredible reflexes– impressive, sure, but not attractive.

Maybe he just likes Chenle?

Jisung shakes his head, resolving to figure it out later, and focuses back on the game as well as he can.

_“Gryffindor in the lead, sixty points to fifty, Slytherin with the quaffle- wait, was that the Snitch?”_

The audience draws in a collective breath as the seekers, Kahei Wong of Gryffindor and Sooyoung Ha of Slytherin, speed across the pitch, neck and neck, chasing a tiny glimmer of gold. 

The Snitch changes direction, the seekers following suit in a steep dive, streaking to the ground so fast that Jisung claps a hand over his mouth, sure they'll flatten themselves against the grass of the field.

Mere feet above the ground, Kahei pulls sharply out of the dive, fist raised in triumph.

_"Kahei Wong has the Snitch! Gryffindor wins, 210 points to 60!"_

The crowd goes wild, the Gryffindors screaming their delight. The Gryffindor team tackles Kahei midair, nearly knocking her off her broom with the force of the group hug. The Slytherin team pats each other on the back as they return to the ground. Donghyuck and Yangyang knock their beaters bats together in a complicated pattern oddly like a handshake.

"I suppose we should go congratulate Mark and Chenle," sighs Renjun. 

Jisung, Renjun, and Jeno have to fight their way through all of Gryffindor house to get through to the team. Chenle is laughing as dozens of people congratulate him and clap him on the back. When he sees Jisung, his smile widens even further, impossibly bright, and he starts pushing his way through the crowd.

"Jisung!" he shouts, flinging himself at the Ravenclaw, who catches him in surprise. "What did you think?"

"You were incredible," Jisung answers honestly, heart flipping as Chenle squeezes him in a hug.

"Of course I was," Chenle says, pulling back to grin with his signature Gryffindor confidence. "I'm Chenle Zhong!"

Jisung laughs, a free, joyful sound that he never could have imagined a few months ago. "That you are."

"Come on," Chenle says, grabbing Jisung's hand and starting to drag him through the crowd toward the castle. "After party in Gryffindor tower. Slytherin is providing the snacks, since they lost, that's the deal."

"But I'm not a Gryffindor," Jisung protests.

"Doesn't matter! The whole Slytherin team will be there, and lots of others besides."

Jisung gapes; he's never seen a non-Ravenclaw in the Ravenclaw common room, but true to Chenle's word, the Gryffindor common room is completely packed. Renjun, Jeno, and Jaemin all manage to cram themselves into one chair. 

The party lasts all afternoon. Jisung loses track of Chenle at some point until he reappears some time later, tapping Jisung on the shoulder and making the Ravenclaw jump and spin around, scowling as Chenle laughs at him. Presumably, Chenle had disappeared to his dormitory, because he's changed out of his quidditch robes and into a soft Gryffindor sweater, and his hair looks freshly washed and dried. 

"Let's go," Chenle says, grabbing Jisung's wrist and tugging him toward the portrait hole.

"Where are we going?"

Chenle's eyes sparkle with mischief. "I promised you a broom ride." 

  
  


The light of the setting sun turns Chenle’s blonde hair gold and pink as he steps out onto the quidditch pitch, his broom in one hand, Jisung’s hand in the other. Now that Jisung has noticed how handsome Chenle is, he’s noticing every little detail– the way the light hits his cheekbones, the dimple in his cheek when he smiles, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners.

Chenle lets go of Jisung’s hand to adjust the scarf around his neck. Jisung had forgotten he was wearing it, but he’s even more thankful for the warmth as dusk settles in around them. 

“Do you want this back?” Jisung says, reaching up to fiddle with the scarf as well.

“Nah,” Chenle replies, smirking. “You should keep it. You look good in red.”

Jisung hopes that’s true, because he’s sure his face is flooding with the color.

“Hop on,” says Chenle, mounting his broom and gesturing for Jisung to climb on behind him which he does, with significantly less grace. “Hold on tight,” Chenle instructs, guiding Jisung’s arms around his waist.

Jisung tries to keep a bit of a gap between them, but that attempt goes out the window as soon as Chenle kicks off the ground. He finds himself holding on to Chenle for dear life as they shoot off the ground, leaving Jisungs stomach behind. He lets out an undignified shriek, immediately lost to the wind along with Chenle’s delighted laughter.

“Chenle! Slow down! Go lower,” Jisung yelps as they rise into the sky.

“I guess your boggart should have been heights, huh?” laughs Chenle.

“I’m not _scared,_ ” Jisung shouts back over the whistle of the wind, “I’m _reasonably concerned!”_

Chenle laughs again, but while he may be a tease, he doesn’t have a mean bone in his body, so he eases off on the speed and allows the broom the drift lower, about fifteen feet off the ground.

Now that he isn’t clutching on like a lifeline, Jisung can appreciate just how close he is to Chenle, pressed flush against his back, arms wrapped around Chenle’s torso. Warmth bleeds through his thick sweater, a contrast to the chilly autumn night. Jisung focuses on that as his breathing returns to normal, but his heartbeat refuses to calm down from the proximity.

“Sorry to scare you– or _reasonably concern_ you, I guess,” Chenle says, and Jisung can hear the smile on his face.

“It’s fine,” Jisung mumbles. “I’m fine now, I was just startled.”

“Can we go higher now?”

Jisung nods against his shoulder. “But not so fast, okay?”

“Okay, Chenle agrees, and he tilts the broom handle gently. The altitude increases much slower this time, and Jisung watches the ground drift away.

“Look up,” Chenle says, and Jisung obeys, tearing his eyes away from the receding ground. The sunset over the forbidden forest is fading from fiery oranges to soft purples, reflecting in the surface of the lake, and the first stars beginning to peek out of the darkening sky overhead. 

“It’s beautiful,” Jisung murmurs, his breath lightly ruffling Chenle’s hair.

They watch the sunset fade until nothing but a faint green glow at the horizon remains, their breaths crystalizing in the air, flying slow, lazy loops over the quidditch stands. Jisung hopes Chenle can’t feel his heart beating out of his chest as he tries to shove down the thoughts that have been festering in the back of his mind since earlier.

“I think I’m ready to go faster now,” Jisung says finally, and he can imagine Chenle’s grin even though he can’t quite see his face.

“Perfect,” he says, and then they take off.

It’s like the rollercoaster Jisung rode once as a child(he decided that day that he didn’t like rollercoasters), but so much better. Chenle takes them swerving and looping over the field, the lake, even the forest, sometimes dipping low enough that the tips of their shoes brushed the leaves. They fly until Jisung is breathless from laughing and screaming, and his face and hands are absolutely frozen.

“We need to go inside, you’re shivering,” Chenle says at last.

“I am not,” Jisung says through chattering teeth, but Chenle just laughs at him.

Jisung’s legs feel like jelly when he finally settles his feet back on the ground. Chenle saves him from falling over with a strong arm around his waist.

With a flick of his wand, Chenle sends his broom flying to the Gryffindor broomshed. They head back to the castle, Jisung still leaning on Chenle for support.

To Jisung’s shock, the clock in the entrance hall shows that it’s well past midnight. “Oh no,” Chenle says, “I hope we don’t get caught out of bed this late. I really don’t want another detention.”

“You won’t get detention if you’re with me,” Jisung says, and it’s probably true. Teachers have caught Jisung wandering about in the middle of the night before, usually returning to Ravenclaw tower from the Room of Requirement, but they’re all happy to give a pass to their best student.

After a brief argument, Chenle agrees to let Jisung walk him back to Gryffindor tower.

“Any chance I could use this teacher's pet perk to sneak down to the kitchens every night?” Chenle asks.

“Don’t push your luck,” Jisung snorts, shoving him by the shoulder.

When they reach the portrait hole, they both stare in horror at the empty frame, the figure of the Fat Lady nowhere to be seen. 

“Oh no,” groans Chenle, “it could be hours before she’s back.”

“Can’t anyone let you in?”

Chenle considers for a moment, then shakes his head. “They’ll all be asleep. Everyone’s always really worn out after quidditch matches, especially when we win and party the rest of the day.”

“Oh,” Jisung says, staring at the empty frame. “You could come stay with me?” The words surprise even himself, but he doesn’t take them back. Chenle has been such a good friend to him, after all, and it wouldn’t feel right to leave him stranded outside his dormitory.

“Really?” Chenle asks, eyes wide and hopeful. “Your roommates won’t mind?”

Jisung shrugs. “They’re probably all asleep, and I can cast a _muffliato_ charm so we don’t disturb them.”

The walk to Ravenclaw tower is mostly silent, as Jisung begins to freak out. Sure, maybe offering a bed to a friend is a totally normal thing to do, but Jisung isn’t very experienced in the friendship department. Besides, it’s not just _any_ friend, this is _Chenle._ Chenle with his boisterous laugh and his friendly smile. Chenle, with his high cheekbones and his strong arms capable of launching a quaffle through a hoop over fifty feet away. Chenle, who is making Jisung think and feel things he’s never experienced before.

The brass eagle door knocker gives the Jisung a look of disapproval– whether because he stayed out so late, or because he’s brought an outsider with him, Jisung doesn’t know.

“What has a head and a tail, but no body?” the door knocker asks.

“A coin,” Jisung answers immediately. “You need more difficult riddles.”

“You tell me this every day, Mr. Park.” the eagle snaps as Jisung pushes the door open. “Perhaps you are simply too smart for your own good.”

As expected, the common room is empty, save for a seventh year boy asleep with his face resting on the page of an open book. Jisung waves Chenle inside, motioning for him to remain quiet as they cross the common room to the staircase that leads to the fifth year boys’ dormitory.

“ _Muffliato,”_ Jisung whispers, flicking his wand toward the beds of his classmates before moving to his own and pulling back the curtain. Chenle collapses face first onto the bed with a groan. 

“Take off your shoes first, you heathen,” scolds Jisung.

Chenle kicks off the offending sneakers and rolls to the other side of the bed, making grabby hands at Jisung. “C’mere.”

Jisung’s heart flips, but he manages to keep his expression neutral as he removes his shoes, scarf, and cloak, and climbs onto the bed, not bothering to change into his pajamas. He carefully leaves a space between himself and Chenle as he lies down, but Chenle seems to have other ideas; he scoots closer and tosses an arm over Jisung’s torso, snuggling into his neck. Jisung freezes, his whole body going rigid.

“Relax,” Chenle mumbles, his breath ghosting across Jisung’s collar. “It’s just me.”

Just Chenle. Wonderful, beautiful, incredible Chenle.

A beam of moonlight rests on Chenle’s face, the shadows of his lashes fanning out over his cheeks. He looks younger in sleep, softer and smaller.

Something warm bubbles inside Jisung, like glowing molten gold, as he slowly lets one hand gently comb through Chenle’s hair. It’s a feeling unlike anything he’s ever known, but he’s read a lot of novels and he has a spectacular imagination.

 _Fear isn’t about logic,_ Chenle had said. _What makes your heart beat fast? What makes you want to run away?_

Perhaps fear and love are similar.

Perhaps Jisung is falling.

But it feels a lot like flying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The amount of self control it took to keep from writing "Chenle yeeted the quaffle" was unreal.
> 
> Are NCT127 coming anywhere near where I live? No. Did that stop me from buying tickets? No. Am I going on a 12 hour roadtrip to Seattle this summer for the concert? Heck yeah I am.


	10. Birthdays and Blushes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jisung is thoroughly embarrassed several times

Waking up on Sunday morning with a star quidditch player in his bed, snuggled against his chest, and his roommates staring at them through the gap in his bed curtains immediately takes the top place in Jisung’s list of most mortifying experiences. Arriving very late to breakfast, together, in the sleep rumpled clothes they had been wearing the previous day, as all their friends snicker suggestively at them, is a close second. Even Jeno, normally the mediator, smirks and raises an eyebrow.

Jisung makes his escape immediately after breakfast, unable to bear another moment of sitting shoulder to shoulder with Chenle while Jaemin makes kissy faces at them.

After finally changing his clothes, Jisung makes his way to the Room of Requirement. Despite spending a good portion of his free time with his newfound friends lately, he always returns to the Room at least every couple of days. As much as he likes his friends, he needs the peace and quiet—to finish his homework without distraction, yes, but he also just needs to take time for himself, to think and recharge.

He doesn’t meet Chuu on the way, and when he arrives, Haseul’s frame is empty. Jisung breathes a sigh of relief as he collapses into his armchair; he’s been teased enough for one day already.

  
  


For the most part, life continues the same as before. Jisung continues to ace all his classes; Chenle pesters him for help with his homework; Mark and Donghyuck bicker as Renjun rolls his eyes; Jaemin continues to flirt with anything that moves, and Jeno continues to be 90 percent of his impulse control. Overall, Jisung continues to live as if he isn’t in love with his best friend.

Maybe ‘love’ is too strong of a word, but ‘crush’ doesn’t feel right either. A ‘crush,’ according to the psychology book that appears on the shelf in the Room of Requirement, is a temporary infatuation in which a person is smitten with an imaginary, perfected version of someone. Jisung doesn’t see a perfect person when he looks at Chenle; he sees the way Chenle drools on his notes when he falls asleep in class, and the way he consistently mixes up names and dates in his History of Magic homework. Chenle is a sore loser, often petty, sometimes arrogant. No, Chenle is flawed, as every person is. Jisung recognizes this, but he still feels a flip in stomach when Chenle grabs his hand or bumps their shoulders together. So, no; crush isn’t the right word.

For all his flaws, though, Jisung can’t help but see all the good qualities in Chenle. Despite his constant complaints about his classes, Chenle is smarter than he seems, with a strong memory for incantations and an innate skill with transfiguration. He’s good with animals too, judging by his consistently high marks in Care of Magical creatures. He’s fiercely loyal to his friends, a brilliant quidditch player, and one of the funniest people Jisung has ever met. And, with every passing day, Jisung finds it more and more difficult to ignore the strong set of Chenle’s jaw, the smoothe curve of his cheekbone, the way his cheek dimples when he smiles, the soft pink of his lips...

“See something you like?” Chenle asks with a smirk, jolting Jisung out of his reverie. He had, apparently, zoned out staring at Chenle’s face for the past several minutes.

“Nope,” Jisung lies, shoving the embarrassing thoughts away and leaning back in his chair. After significant begging and an unfair use of puppy eyes, Chenle had convinced Jisung to study with him in the library for the afternoon.

"Don't you need time to study without being distracted by ghosts and paintings?" Chenle had reasoned.

Unfortunately, Jisung is finding Chenle more and more distracting these days. He's attuned to the other boy's every move whether he wants to be or not. 

"It's snowing," Jisung observes, hoping to shift Chenle's focus off him, and it works.

"So it is," Chenle says, turning to gaze out the window. Large fluffy flakes swirl beyond the glass, bright against the darkening sky. Chenle stretches with a yawn. "I think that's enough studying for one night, don't you?"

Jisung hasn’t finished his essay, but he doubts he’ll get much done with Chenle there so he agrees. The corridors are drafty, the cold wind rattling the windows as they leave the library.

“We’re having a bit of a party on Saturday, if you’d like to come” Chenle says offhandedly. “Not a big one, just us.”

Jisung hums in acknowledgement. He’s never considered himself much of a party person, but he had a good time at the quidditch after-party, and he nearly always feels comfortable with just their small group. “What’s the occasion?” 

“My birthday.” Chenle continues walking for a few steps before turning back to Jisung, who has stopped in his tracks.

“This Saturday is your birthday? And you didn’t think to mention it until now?”

Chenle shrugs. “It wasn’t really relevant.”

Jisung huffs in annoyance, thinking back to the Hogsmeade trip; that would have been the perfect time to find him a gift. 

“You don’t have to get me anything,” Chenle assures, as though reading his mind.

“I want to, though,” Jisung insists.

“Your presence will be present enough,” Chenle grins. Jisung shoves him hard in the shoulder.

“That’s so cheesy, oh my god. Never speak to me again.”

Chenle laughs, the sound bouncing off the stone walls, illuminating the corridor more than the flickering light of the torches.

  
  
  
  


“I have no ideas,” Jisung groans, slumping forward onto the table. For once, the Room of Requirement isn’t giving him what he needs: a suitable gift for Chenle.

“Just get him sweets or something,” Chuu suggests.

“I want it to be meaningful, though,” Jisung protests. 

Chuu rolls her eyes. “You Ravenclaws always make everything more complicated than it needs to be.”

“Jisung is right,” Haseul says, though whether she’s defending him or just her house, Jisung isn’t sure. “He likes this boy, the gift should be a meaningful token of his affection.”

“So give him sweets in a heart-shaped box!”

Jisung hadn’t really meant to tell Chuu and Haseul about his feelings for Chenle, but it’s hard to keep anything from his two oldest friends. He had worried that, since they both came from more old-fashioned times, they might not not support the idea of him liking a boy, but they were more than supportive—they were downright thrilled.

“I _knew_ it!” Chuu had squealed, trying(and failing) to throw her transparent arms around him. “That first day you told us about him, I just _knew_ there was something there.”

Haseul had been calmer, allowing him to talk through his confusion, encouraging him to do what Ravenclaws do best—seek knowledge. Jisung had leafed through books on topics of romance and sexuality until he came across a term that finally felt like it fit: _demisexual._

As helpful as they had been, since then they’ve mostly taken to teasing him.

“A heart-shaped box?” Jisung groans. “It’s his birthday, not Valentine's Day!” 

“If you’re going to shoot down all my ideas, I won’t try to help,” pouts Chuu, and she turns and glides through the solid oak door.

Jisung sighs, propping his face in his hands and gazing imploringly at Haseul.

“Well,” Haseul says slowly, tapping her fingers against the edge of the frame, “you gave him a pen when you first met, didn’t you? And he seemed to like that.”

Jisung tilts his head to the side. “Are you saying I should, what, give him a stationary set?”

“You could do that,” Haseul laughs. “I was just thinking that he seems interested in muggle things, so maybe give him something from home. It could give him a glimpse into your world, wouldn’t that be meaningful?”

Jisung’s mind latches onto the idea and begins sorting through ideas. No electronics, they tend to malfunction at Hogwarts. Nothing too mundane. Something Chenle would use and enjoy. Something that would give him a glimpse of Jisung’s world.

The legs of his chair skid along the carpet as Jisung stands abruptly. “You’re a genius Haseul, thank you!”

“Of course I am,” Haseul preens. “Tell me how it goes!”

“I will,” Jisung promises as he pulls open the door, his feet taking him toward the owlery to send a letter home.

  
  
  
  


“Jen, Jeno, please,” Jaemin begs desperately. “Please don’t do this. Not after everything we’ve been through together.”

“I’m sorry Jaem,” Jeno says, “but draw four.”

Jaemin lets out an agonized shriek as Jeno sets the card on the discard pile.

Whatever the original plans for the party were, they were immediately derailed when Jisung arrived at the Gryffindor common room with the large box his owl had struggled to fly from home. Chenle opened the package eagerly, and Jeno whooped in delight when he caught sight of the array of muggle games, insisting that they play Uno.

“One!” Chenle screeches, placing his second-to-last card down.

“That’s not even the right word,” complains Donghyuck, glaring at Chenle over his cards, which are so numerous that he has to use both hands to hold them all. “He should have to draw for that.”

“It’s his birthday, let it go,” chides Mark, unknowingly tilting his own card in his distraction. Renjun looks carefully at Mark’s hand before taking his own turn.

For his part, Jisung is content to watch the chaos unfold when, two rounds later, Chenle plays his final card with a triumphant whoop and promptly gets tackled by Jaemin. Cards go flying as Donghyuck throws himself over the table to join the scuffle as Jeno and Mark try to rescue the birthday boy. Renjun tosses his last two cards to the floor with a string of creative expletives.

By the time Chenle, ruffled and mussed but still grinning, manages to climb to his feet, Jisung can hardly breathe for laughing, and the last of his breath leaves his lungs when Chenle suddenly pulls him into a hug.

“Thank you so much,” Chenle says, a smile in his voice. “For the gift.” He pulls back to beam up at Jisung, who hopes his face isn’t as red as it feels.

“You didn’t even see everything in there yet,” Jisung shrugs. 

Chenle’s eyes brighten with reignited excitement as he looks back at the forgotten box. “More games, right?”

“Yeah, and something else.”

“You guys playing?” calls Jeno, who’s somehow managed to collect all the cards and is dealing a new game.

“We’ll sit out this round,” Chenle replies, picking up the box and gesturing toward a sofa a little ways across the almost-deserted common room. Jisung tries to keep a comfortable distance from Chenle as he sits down, but Chenle scoots closer, his thigh pressing against Jisung’s as he settles the large box across both of their laps.

“You’ll teach me how to play all of these, right?” Chenle asks eagerly, lifting the lid of Monopoly and examining the pieces.

“I’m sure Jeno knows how to play as well,” Jisung points out.

Chenle turns his full attention back to Jisung, the top hat piece still clutched in his fingers. “I know that,” he says with a half smile, knocking their shoulders together gently, “but I want _you.”_

Jisung ducks his head, busying his fingers with straightening the game pieces Chenle had been pawing through. A warm hand gently cups his cheek, however, and Chenle nudges his chin back up until he can see his face.

“Why do you always hide?” Chenle says, not removing his hand. “You look cute when you’re all flustered.”

If Jisung had wanted to hide before, he now wants to melt into the floor and never be seen again—or throw caution to the winds and kiss Chenle square on the mouth. He settles for remaining completely motionless and hoping his cheek doesn’t feel as warm to Chenle as it does to him.

“Anyways,” Chenle says, dropping his hand, and Jisung wants to snatch it back, “You said there was something else? Other than the games?”

“Oh—oh yeah,” says Jisung, mentally shaking himself out fantasies of Chenle cupping his cheek and leaning in closer— “There is something else.”

Jisung reaches into a corner of the package. There, tucked behind a box of dice, is a battered paperback book, which he carefully removes and hands to Chenle.

“Matilda,” Chenle reads, running his fingertips over the title on the cover.

“It was one of my favorites growing up,” Jisung explains, still feeling warm in the face. “When I was first discovering my magic. The first time I ever used magic was when I was seven and I levitated this book.”

Chenle turns back to him, eyes full of wonder. “Really? You’re giving me something so important to you?”

Jisung can only nod. Chenle takes care to gently set the book beside him before tackling Jisung in a tight embrace.

“Thank you,” he says, voice muffled as he buries his face in Jisung’s neck. “This is the best birthday of my life.”

Pressed uncomfortably into the armrest of the sofa as Chenle hugs the air out of him, Jisung thinks that perhaps ‘love’ isn’t too big a word after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're all staying safe and healthy <3 Remember to stream and vote for Kick It!  
> Sorry it's been a hot minute since my last update... most of my creative energy and time lately has been devoted to painting(follow me on [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/nctseethevision/)  
> or [twitter](https://twitter.com/see_thevision), I'll post my art there at some point)  
> On the bright side of everything, my uni classes getting canceled should mean I'll have more time for writing!


	11. Shrieks and Snowflakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jisung is a little bit oblivious

The Yule Ball was originally part of the festivities surrounding the Triwizard Tournament, held in hopes of forming bonds between students of different magic schools. The Tournament was eventually discontinued due to casualties. One attempt was made to revive the tradition, but... well, everyone knows what happened in the last Triwizard Tournament. Although the Tournament hasn't been held since then, Hogwarts reinstated the tradition of the Yule Ball after the end of the Second Wizarding War, as a means to build connections between houses, rather than with other schools. It's not required, but students are encouraged to attend with someone from a different house. The date of the event was also changed from Christmas day to December 31st, so that students who spend the Christmas holidays at home have the opportunity to attend.

Jisung knows this due to his study of the Triwizard Tournament in his first year, but he’s never been to the ball for several reasons. Firstly, students below fourth year aren’t allowed to attend; secondly, once he was old enough, Jisung still had no friends at Hogwarts; and thirdly, Jisung has never had any interest in dating before.

Truthfully, Jisung doesn’t remember about the event until one morning in early December, when an owl drops a bright red envelope on the table in front of Mark at breakfast.

“Oh no,” Mark gasps, staring fearfully at the howler with wide eyes. “What did I do?”

Jisung, along with everyone else who catches sight of the envelope, hastily stuffs his fingers in his ears as Mark gingerly picks up the howler. 

“Open it, quick,” Renjun urges, apprehensively eyeing the corners of the red paper beginning to smoke in Mark’s grasp. Mark swallows nervously and tears open the envelope.

A voice explodes from the howler, echoing off the stone walls and bringing every eye in the great hall to Mark. “MARK LEE,” it shrieks—magically magnified and loud enough to make Mark drop the envelope and cover his ears, but unmistakably Donghyuck’s voice. “COME TO THE YULE BALL WITH ME OR I’LL HEX YOUR NOSE OFF!” 

Apparently that’s all there is to the message, because the envelope bursts into flames as bright as Mark’s blush.

“He could have just asked,” Mark grumbles, scratching the back of his neck as the great hall fills with snickering. “He didn’t have to threaten me.”

“Where is Donghyuck, anyway?” Chenle asks, rubbing at his ears as if to remove the remnants of the voice.

As if on cue, Donghyuck appears, grinning at the smouldering remains of his howler. “So, Lee,” he says, twirling his wand threateningly, “do you want to keep your nose?”

Mark rolls his eyes, but fails to banish the smile playing around the corners of his lips. “Fine. But you’d better behave this time, there can’t be a repeat of last year.”

“What happened last year?” Jisung half-whispers to Chenle. 

“Hyuck and his date got kicked out before the first song even finished,” Chenle recounts. 

“Really? What did they do?”

“They dumped a punch bowl on someone,” Jaemin explains from Jisung’s other side.

“Who was Donghyuck's date?”

“Yangyang Liu.”

“That makes sense,” Jisung says, glancing down the Slytherin table towards Yangyang, who's always seemed like the kind of person you shouldn't let your guard down around. “Who did they spill the punch on?”

“Mina Kang,” Chenle says with a smirk. “She was Mark’s date.”

“Oh,” Jisung says, processing the implications as he looks back at Mark and Donghyuck, who are arguing about what color dress robes to wear to the ball. “Are they…”

“Who knows,” Jaemin says with a shrug. “But now that the first person has asked, everyone else will start scrambling for dates"

The topic of the ball is swept to the back of Jisung's mind by the arrival of his owl, Hemingway, with a letter from his parents asking when he'll be home for holidays.

  
  


As Jaemin predicted, seemingly half the school has dates by the end of the week. Jisung isn't one for gossip, but his friends certainly are, so he hears all about how Hyejoo, captain of the Slytherin quidditch team, had stalked up to Yukhei in the corridor and demanded that he attend the ball with her. Yukhei was surprised, but agreed easily enough.

"Hyejoo looked a bit disappointed that she didn't have to threaten him," Mark recounts.

"She probably was," Donghyuck and Jaemin, members of the Slytherin team and good friends of Hyejoo, respond in unison.

"Who are you lot going with?" Mark asks.

"I challenged Renjun to a duel for the right to take Jeno," reports Jaemin.

Jeno makes a sound like a confused dog, tilting his head to the side. "This is the first I've heard of it."

"I was going to tell you once I'd won," says Renjun confidently.

"Well, unfortunately," says Jeno, raising an eyebrow, "Yeeun already asked me yesterday."

Renjun and Jaemin stare disbelievingly at Jeno. " _What?"_ Jaemin asks after a few seconds.

Jeno shrugs. "She asked first, so I guess you don't have to duel anymore."

"But now I don't have a date!" Jaemin cries.

"You wouldn't have had one anyway," Renjun retorts, "I would have won."

"Why don't you two just go together then?" suggests Chenle.

"Oh," says Jaemin. "Yeah, that'll work. Renjun, go to the ball with me."

"Fine," Renjun huffs.

"Well that was easy," laughs Mark.

"What about you, Jisung?" Jaemin says.

Jisung looks up from rummaging through his bag. "What?"

"Do you have a date to the ball?" Jaemin repeats.

"Oh," Jisung resists the urge to glance at Chenle. "No, I'm not planning to go."

Jaemin opens his mouth, but Renjun elbows him in the ribs to shut him up.

Jisung ducks his head and continues to dig through his bag, despite having found the pen he was searching for.

  
  


Jisung isn't nearly as excited for the Christmas holidays as he usually is. Of course, he misses his parents, but for the first time, there's someone at Hogwarts that he'll miss just as much.

"Wait, you aren't going home for the holidays?" Jisung asks, interrupting Chenle's chatter about how much he's looking forward to the Christmas feast. They're supposed to be reading the section on werewolves in their textbooks, but Professor Seo doesn't seem to care one way or the other; in fact, Jisung is pretty sure he's asleep at his desk.

"Not this year, no," Chenle says, leaning closer across their desks and lowering his voice. "See, Renjun never goes home for Christmas. His family situation… isn't ideal. He usually spends the summer with Jaemin, but he refuses to go to Jaem's for Christmas. He thinks he'd be intruding, which is ridiculous," Chenle frowns. "Mr. and Mrs. Na are the nicest people you could ever meet, they consider Renjun another son at this point. But anyway, a few of us always stay over Christmas to keep him company— Donghyuck is staying as well this year."

"Oh," is all Jisung can manage to say. He's known Renjun for months now, but he realizes he doesn't really know much about him. _I guess there will always be something more to learn._ "I had no idea."

"Don't look so glum," Chenle says, patting Jisung on the cheek and inadvertently sending his heart into overdrive. "Junnie doesn't like to talk about it, of course you didn't know." Jisung merely nods in answer.

  
  


Jisung's last class before the holidays is Herbology. The greenhouses are kept blessedly warm, but the moment he steps back out into the snow to trudge back up to the castle, Jisung shivers. There's nearly a foot of snow blanketing the ground, slipping into the tops of his shoes and melting uncomfortably into his socks.

"Oi, Jisung!"

Jisung turns around just in time to be hit in the face with a snowball. Spluttering, he stumbles back, wiping the snow from his eyes and looking around wildly.

Chenle is already bending down to pick up another handful of snow, his Care of Magical Creatures classmates quickly leaving him behind as they hurry to the castle. The cold has flushed his cheeks and nose cherry pink as he shrieks with laughter. "You should have seen your face," he cackles.

"Oh, you are going to pay for that," Jisung threatens, leaning down to scoop as much snow as possible into his cold hands. 

Chenle, rather sensibly, turns tail and dashes away as fast as he can through the deep snow.

Perfect quidditch chaser's aim turns out to be a ridiculously unfair advantage for a snowball fight; Chenle pelts Jisung with aggravating accuracy. Jisung makes a few lucky shots, but Chenle remains annoyingly snow-free until Jisung catches up to him and tackles him into a snowbank.

"Okay, okay, you win!" Chenle gasps, struggling to escape as Jisung stuffs snow down the front of his robes. "Get off me!"

Jisung suddenly realizes that he's practically lying on top of Chenle, his legs straddling Chenle's hips to pin him to the ground. Chenle's flushed face is so close to his.

It's an odd feeling, Jisung thinks. He's never wanted to kiss anyone before; kissing seems altogether gross. Chenle's lips, he notes as his gaze flickers down to them, are chapped and dry. They'd be rough, uncomfortable, and probably cold. Somehow, Jisung wants to kiss them anyway.

Instead, he rolls off Chenle and gets to his feet, trying to brush some of the snow off his robes, thankful that the redness in his cheeks will be attributed to the cold.

Chenle clambers to his feet, shaking himself like a dog and sending bits of ice and water flying out of his unruly hair. His smile is as blinding as the sun on the snow. 

  
  


The next morning dawns bright and cold. Jisung's bag is packed at the foot of his bed—just a few items he needs for the holiday back home. He double checked that he packed everything last night, but he can't shake the feeling that there's something he's forgotten to do.

The feeling follows Jisung to breakfast, where his friends chatter excitedly about their holiday plans. Jeno tells them all that he's going skiing with his family, and then has to explain what skiing is.

"So, let me get this straight," says Donghyuck, brows furrowed. "You strap boards to your feet?"

"Really long ones, yes," Jeno replies happily.

"And then you slide down a mountain?"

"Yep."

"And then you go back up the mountain and do it again."

"Exactly."

Donghyuck sits back in his seat with a baffled expression. "I will never understand muggles."

"Wait til you hear about skydiving," Jisung says, and Jeno bursts out laughing.

After breakfast, Jisung, Mark, Jaemin, and Jeno shoulder their bags and join the stream of students flowing toward the train station. Chenle tags along, while Donghyuck and Renjun wave goodbye and head back toward the Slytherin common room.

Chenle falls into step beside Jisung, his gait just a bit less bouncy than usual.

"What's the matter?" Jisung asks cautiously.

"Oh, nothing really," Chenle says, flashing a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "I guess I'll just miss you guys."

"We'll be back before you know it," Jisung assures.

"Just in time for the Yule Ball," Chenle mumbles, quiet enough that Jisung almost doesn't catch it over the noise as they step onto the platform. The Hogwarts Express billows steam over the crowd.

"Oh, yeah," Jisung says. He hasn't thought about the ball in days. "Are you—I mean, did you—"

"Someone asked me," Chenle answers before Jisung can finish the question. "Yesterday. Yeojin Im, from Hufflepuff."

"Oh," Jisung says, swallowing back a lump in his throat. Chenle can go to the ball with whoever he wants, and after all, it's not like Jisung wanted to go anyway. Right? "That's—that's cool. I mean, she seems really—"

"I said no."

"What?"

Chenle sighs. "I turned her down."

" _Why?_ "

"Last call, everyone on the train," a voice booms across the platform.

"Jisung!" calls another voice—Mark, already on the train, leaning out his compartment window and gesturing for Jisung to hurry up.

"Because," Chenle shouts over the crowd as Jisung steps into the train. "There's someone else I wanted to go with!"

Jisung freezes, much to the displeasure of the others in the corridor, and then bursts into action. Just as the train begins to move, slow and barely noticeable, Jisung hurls himself into the compartment where Mark, Jeno, and Jaemin are already seated. Jisung ignores the seat they've saved for him and flings open the compartment window, sticking his head out, searching for a blonde haired figure in Gryffindor robes. He's still there, thank goodness.

"Chenle!" Jisung screams over the wind and the engine as the train begins to pick up speed. "Will you go to the ball with me?" 

Chenle says something, but it's lost to the roar of the wind as the train pulls away from Hogsmeade station.

Jisung, now thoroughly windswept, collapses into the empty seat. "Do you think he heard me?" He asks breathlessly.

"Mate," Jaemin says, smile wider and brighter than ever, "you're lucky if everyone from here to Scotland didn't hear you."

Jisung feels himself turning red. This is going to be a very long train ride. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Write a fic without adding any Markhyuck challenge: failed  
> Sorry it's been a minute since my last update! My life has been quite hectic lately, as I'm sure many of yours have... I hope you're all staying safe.  
> There will most likely be only one more chapter left of this fic!  
> In other news, I've been reading a lot of twitter aus lately and I want to try writing one... so go follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/see_thevision)  
> if you'd be interested in that(also just because I'm lonely and need more moots)


	12. This and That

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jisung learns to dance, among other things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been waiting to use that chapter title for MONTHS!

Jisung hears nothing from Chenle for a few days—days he spends trying not to be anxious and ignoring his parents’ knowing glances. The moment they caught sight of his face—still flushed from the teasing he’d endured the entire train ride—when they picked him up from King’s Cross Station, their interest was piqued. Jisung, who had grown up with his parents as his only confidants, told them everything(only leaving out the time when Chenle spent the night in Jisung’s bed, cuddling him like a teddy bear. His mother would have had a field day with that one).

Although Jisung had expected them to be accepting—after all, they hadn’t burned him at the stake for practicing witchcraft, so he figured they wouldn’t kick him out of the house for liking a boy—he was surprised that his parents didn’t seem at all shocked.

“Jisung,” his father had said, ruffling his hair affectionately, “every letter you’ve sent us this entire term has mentioned this Chenle boy at least once. We’re your parents, give us a little credit.”

They tease him a fair amount, as he expected they would, but they’re wonderfully supportive and take every opportunity to shower him in encouragement. Jisung thinks of Renjun, choosing to stay at school for Christmas rather than spend it with his family, and hugs his mother a little tighter.

Finally, on Christmas Eve, the Park family is interrupted in decorating their tree by a tapping at the window. The bauble in Jisung’s hand, thankfully plastic rather than glass, slips from his fingers and clatters on the floor as he launches himself across the room to let the bedraggled white owl in from the snowstorm outside.

Chenle’s owl, Jisung realizes

The owl drops a package in Jisung’s arms before fluttering over to perch on the tree, knocking the angel off the top. It hoots triumphantly, flapping wings flinging drops of water and snow everywhere. Jisung’s mother sighs at the mess, but his father just laughs and tentatively reaches out to stroke the owl, who preens at the attention.

Jisung is dying to open the parcel, but he forces himself to focus on the envelope stuck to the top first. Inside is a short note, not signed but unmistakably Chenle’s handwriting:

_It certainly took you long enough. For someone so smart, you sure are slow. Of course I’ll go to the ball with you._

Jisung’s mother, reading over his shoulder, coos, “That’s so adorable!”

“He insulted me, it’s not adorable,” Jisung grumbles, but his heart is fluttering and he can’t keep the smile off his face. He hands over the note for his parents to gush over and tears open the package.

Inside are a pair of deep scarlet dress robes. Another note is pinned to the front:

_I’ve always thought you look lovely in red._

_P.S. do you even know how to dance??_

Jisung looks up at his parents, eyes widening in panic. "Mum, I need you to teach me to dance."

  
  


As soon as Jisung steps onto Platform 9 ¾ on the morning of December 31, Jaemin assaults him with an enthusiastic hug.

“Jisungie I missed you,” he shrieks attempting to plant a kiss on Jisung’s cheek.

Jisung’s parents exchange amused looks. “Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend, Jisung?” his mother prompts with raised eyebrows.

Jisung manages to extricate himself from Jaemin’s hold by jabbing an elbow into his ribs. “Mum, Dad, this is Jaemin. Jaemin, my parents,”

Jaemin’s grimace of pain immediately morphs into a charming smile, the kind Jisung has seen him use on teachers to get out of trouble(most of the time it works).

“It’s wonderful to meet you,” Jaemin says, clasping Mrs. Park’s hand and shaking it energetically. “It’s been such a pleasure getting to know your son,” he continues, moving on to Jisung’s father with equal enthusiasm. Jisung rolls his eyes at his parents’ charmed expressions.

"Come on, let's get on the train," Jisung says, snatching his trolley with one hand and the back of Jaemin's robes with the other.

"It was lovely meeting you," Jaemin calls over his shoulder as Jisung drags him away from Mr and Mrs Park.

They find the others in a compartment halfway down the train. "Hey guys," Mark greets as they enter, hushed so as not to disturb Jeno, who has already fallen asleep leaning against the wall with his cat curled contentedly on his lap. 

"Hey," replies Jaemin, voice soft teasing. "Ready for the ball tonight?"

"Of course," Mark scoffs. "I can handle Donghyuck."

"I'm sure you'll _handle_ him just fine," smirks Jaemin, wiggling his eyebrows. He ducks to the side as Mark tries to smack him, settling into the seat next to Jeno.

"How about you, Sungie?" Jaemin prods as Jisung stows his bag in the overhead compartment and takes the empty seat next to Mark. "Ready?"

"I guess," Jisung says, knotting his fingers together awkwardly. "I have my dress robes, that's all I really need, right?"

"There's more to it than just your clothes," Jaemin insists. "We'll arrive at the castle about two hours before the feast, I'll help you get ready."

"Okay, whatever," Jisung agrees, stifling a yawn. Maybe he should take a leaf out of Jeno's book and take a nap; it's going to be a long night.

As the Hogwarts Express pulls away from Platform 9 ¾, Jisung rests his head on Mark's shoulder and closes his eyes.

  
  


The Slytherin common room is different from the warm cheeriness of Gryffindor tower, or the quiet serenity of the Ravenclaw dormitories. There's an air of poise in the high-backed chairs, of regality in the way the greenish light hits the intricately carved wooden furniture. Jisung's eyes widen in fascination when he notices that the far wall is made, not of stone like the others, but glass—a window directly into the depths of the lake. As Jisung watches, a huge shape lazily drifts past through the murky water.

Before Jisung can get a better look, Jaemin is tugging him through an archway and down a dimly lit corridor to a door with a plaque that reads ' _6th Year Boys.'_

Donghyuck is the only one in the room, lounging on his four-poster bed, his wand lazily directing the flight of a paper crane overhead. 

"Hey," he calls out when he sees Jisung, a smirk already forming on his lips. "Heard you've got yourself a date for tonight?"

"Where's Renjun?" Jaemin interjects. 

"Gryffindor tower, I expect," Donghyuck says, letting the crane fall to the ground. "Chenle wanted help with his hair. He took his robes with him, I doubt he'll be back before the ball." 

"Speaking of hair," says Jaemin, throwing an arm around Jisung's shoulders, "we're helping Jisung get ready. I'll do his hair, will you do his makeup?"

"Makeup?" Jisung questions nervously. He's never worn makeup before—never cared enough about his appearance to even consider it.

"Don't worry kid, I'm a pro," Donghyuck assures. "Chenle won't know what hit him."

Jisung rubs at his temples. “Fine, just—don’t go overboard.”

The next two hours are a blur of combs and hair potions and powder. Donghyuck and Jaemin flit around, getting themselves ready as well as tending to Jisung, which seems to be more trouble than they were anticipating. 

“Stop moving!” Donghyuck demands, grabbing Jisung’s face with one hand in an attempt to hold it still, an eyeliner pencil clutched in the other. 

“I can’t help it,” Jisung complains, “you’re going to stab me in the eye!”

“Not if you don’t move,” Donghyuck huffs, setting down the eyeliner and picking up his wand. “ _Petrificus Totalus!”_

Jisung feels his body lock in place. He huffs out a breath through his nose, the only protest he can manage in his frozen state, as he apprehensively watches Donghyuck pick up the eyeliner again. 

“You might want to finish his hair as well before I do the countercurse,” Donghyuck calls to Jaemin, who is pulling on his dress robes on the other side of the room.

In the end, Donghyuck doesn’t release Jisung from the curse until twenty minutes before the start of the ball. Jisung shakes out his stiff limbs and straightens his robes, finally letting out the string of complaints that had been trapped on his tongue. Donghyuck just laughs at his annoyance and steers him to a mirror.

“You look so handsome, Jisungie,” Jaemin coos, reaching out to pinch Jisung’s cheek. Jisung reflexively slaps his hand away.

Jisung has never thought of himself as particularly good-looking. His eyes are on the small side, his nose slightly upturned, his lips full but perpetually chapped. Not a particularly bad face to be sure, but not striking in the way that Jaemin or Jeno are. 

As Jisung looks in the mirror, however, he has to agree with Jaemin; he _does_ look handsome. 

Thanks to Jaemin, Jisung’s thick, dark hair is styled away from his face, instead of falling into his eyes like usual. Donghyuck did a good job with the makeup, just a subtle touch to accent his eyes. He’s somehow made Jisung’s dry lips look soft and plush. The deep red fabric of his dress robes falls in folds, accenting his slim figure.

But it’s not these small changes that make Jisung like his reflection more than he ever has; the Jisung in the mirror stands taller, smiles wider, and looks happier than Jisung could have imagined a few months ago. 

“Thank you,” Jisung chokes out, turning to his friends. “For everything.”

He can’t quite express what he’s feeling, the full force of his gratitude for the boys who helped to pluck him out of dreary life, but by the way Donghyuck and Jaemin smile as they tug him in for a hug, they understand.

“You’d better not start crying,” Donghyuck threatens. “I didn’t put a waterproof charm on your eyeliner.”

Jisung laughs and pulls away, blinking back his tears and grinning broadly. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Jaemin gently pats him on the head, careful not to mess up his hair. “Are we ready to go?”

The trio arrives in the entrance hall with five minutes to spare. The area is already packed with students, milling around in their dress robes as they wait for the doors of the Great Hall to open. Jaemin stands up on his toes to see over the crowd, searching for their dates.

“Hey guys!” a voice calls, and they turn to see Jeno pushing his way through the crowd, accompanied by Yeeun, their robes a matching shade of blush pink. 

“Hey Jen,” greets Donghyuck. “Have you seen Mark?”

“He’s over there,” Jeno gestures toward the far corner of the entrance hall, “with Chenle and Renjun.”

Yeeun pulls Jeno away to talk to her friends, and Jisung, Jaemin, and Donghyuck make their way in the direction Jeno had indicated.

Jisung spots Renjun first, in emerald green robes similar to Jaemin’s. Donghyuck immediately flings himself at Mark; after considerable argument, they had agreed on simple black velvet robes.

Jisung ignores them, his attention locked on the red-clad figure on Renjun’s other side.

Chenle looks unfairly good, Jisung thinks. The deep scarlet fabric perfectly contrasts his fair skin and blonde hair, which is styled out of his face in soft waves.

The clock in the entrance hall strikes eight, and the doors of the Great Hall are thrown open.

“Shall we?” Chenle says, stepping forward and offering Jisung his hand with a smile—a different sort of smile to the wide grin Jisung is used to. This smile is shy, a look Jisung has never seen on Chenle before. Jisung feels a similar smile creep onto his face as he takes Chenle’s offered hand and they enter the Great Hall together.

The Great Hall is almost unrecognizable. The four house tables are nowhere to be seen; instead, dozens of smaller, round tables line the edges of the room, leaving the center clear– the dancefloor. At the far end of the hall, the teachers’ table has been replaced by a raised platform, for the orchestra judging by the rows of chairs and instruments. Every surface in the room glistens as though coated in frost, sparkling under the combined glow of several enormous light-filled pine trees and the stars twinkling in the enchanted ceiling. 

Despite the grandeur surrounding him, Jisung finds his eyes drawn back to the boy beside him. Chenle’s dark eyes are wide, reflecting a galaxy’s worth of tiny lights, his lips slightly parted as he takes in the Great Hall. When he turns to find Jisung already gazing at him, he doesn’t look away. 

It’s as though the stars in the trees and the ceiling and Chenle’s eyes are inside Jisung’s chest, tingling and fluttering and warm. He wants to say something, but the glow in his lungs chokes his words, so he just gives Chenle’s hand a squeeze. Chenle grins, squeezing back before tugging Jisung toward one of the round tables. 

They manage to fit all seven boys, Jeno’s date Yeeun, and Yukhei and Hyejoo, at one table—mostly due to Renjun’s engorgement charm making the table twice as big. A few teachers shoot them disapproving looks, but no one tells them to change it back, so they snag some extra chairs from surrounding tables and sit down.

“Students, may I have your attention?” Professor Qian calls out. He’s standing on the orchestra platform, smiling out at the crowd. The chatter fades, and Qian clears his throat.

“The headmaster has asked me to say a few words. I’m sure you’re all eager for dinner, and then dancing, so I’ll try to keep it short.

“When Hogwarts was founded, all those centuries ago, the four most powerful witches and wizards of the age had a dream: a dream in which young witches and wizards have a place to learn, to grow, and to practice magic in safety. Although these four founders did not always see eye to eye, they all sought to fulfill this dream in whatever ways they believed were best. As teachers, we all share this dream. We wish for Hogwarts to be a place, not only of learning, but of friendship, of safety, and of happiness. Although it may seem so to you, it was not long ago that Hogwarts was nearly ripped apart at the seams by the lines we had drawn between ourselves. The dream was almost lost.

“And yet,” Qian’s smile is misty as he gazes out at the sea of young faces, “I feel that today, we are closer to achieving that dream than ever before. I invite you to look around at your classmates. What do you see?”

Jisung’s gaze turns to his friends seated around the table. Donghyuck is leaning his head on Mark’s shoulder; stripped of their house colors, they’re no longer the unlikely pairing of a Gryffindor and a Slytherin, but simply two close friends. Jaemin and Renjun have taken the seats on either side of Jeno, much to the amusement of Yeeun, who doesn’t seem to mind having her date stolen away. Jaemin catches Jisung’s eye and winks. Even Yukhei, Hyejoo, and Yeeun, who Jisung doesn’t know very well, are a comfortable, friendly presence.

When Jisung turns to him, Chenle offers the full-force, blinding grin that Jisung has become so fond of. He’s overwhelmed with gratitude for this boy, who’s given him so much; his first best friend, his first love.

“When I look out at all of you,” Professor Qian continues and Jisung turns back to face him again, “I don’t see Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, or Slytherins. I see a generation of bright, powerful witches and wizards. I see the future of wizardkind. And I believe that the future you will build _together_ will be far greater than anything you could accomplish if divided.

“Tonight, at the Yule Ball, we celebrate unity, friendship, and a Hogwarts undivided!”

Professor Qian steps down to thunderous applause.

Despite the formal occasion, dinner is just as rowdy an affair as it usually is. Jisung thinks he spends more time at dinner marveling at how much food Yukhei can fit into his mouth at once than he does actually eating, and Mark laughs so hard he snorts butterbeer out his nose.

The thread of tension between Jisung and Chenle persists throughout the meal. Every time his arm brushes Chenle’s, Jisung feels a jolt. It’s not unpleasant, the energy thrumming between them, an anticipatory sort of nervousness that makes Jisung’s nerves tingle.

Jisung may be inexperienced, maybe a little slow when it comes to emotional matters, but he’s nothing if not intelligent. Based on the evidence he has, he hypothesizes that Chenle likes him too, in a more-than-friendly way. The less logical part of Jisung is terrified, but he takes comfort in the way Chenle rest one hand on Jisung’s thigh for most of the meal.

As the students finish their dessert, the dais on the far end fills with musicians tuning their instruments. The plates and silverware disappear soon after, and the lights in the hall dim to a soft glow. Donghyuck is the first to stand, dragging Mark onto the dance floor as the musicians strike up a classic waltz. Yeeun retrieves her date from the clutches of Renjun and Jaemin, who link arms and head off toward the dancing as well.

Chenle’s bashful smile is back as he stands and offers Jisung his hand again. “So, do you actually know how to dance?”

Taking the offered hand, Jisung stands as well. “A little. I won’t step on your feet, at least.”

“All I could want from a man,” Chenle says, smile widening, as he uses their linked hands to guide Jisung to the already crowded dance floor. 

Before he met Chenle, Jisung disliked crowds and parties. Too much noise, too many people squeezed into too small a space. Since finding friends at Hogwarts, however, Jisung thinks it doesn’t matter so much how many people are there, but rather which people he’s there with. Instead of feeling surrounded by the crowd, he’s learned how to become a part of it.

The dance is different; although they’re surrounded by other people, packed so tightly on the floor that they can only shuffle slightly from side to side rather than actually dance, Jisung feels as though he and Chenle are the only people in the room. 

Chenle keeps hold of one of Jisung’s hands, guiding the other to his waist while he rests his own on Jisung’s shoulder. 

“I didn’t tell you earlier,” Chenle says, “but you look really amazing tonight.”

“Thanks,” Jisung mumbles, “Donghyuck did my makeup.”

Chenle shakes his head with a fond smile. “It’s not the makeup, Jisung, it’s all you.”

“Oh,” Jisung feels his face heat up, and Chenle gives his hand a squeeze. “Thank you. But really, you–” His gaze flits over Chenle’s handsome face, trying to put his thoughts into words. “You’re breathtaking, Chenle.” He lowers his gaze.

Chenle lets go of Jisung’s hand, cupping his cheek instead, tilting Jisung’s face back up enough to meet his gaze. “Stop trying to hide,” he chides gently. “Thank you. And thank you for asking me to come to the ball with you.” He gives Jisung’s cheek a pinch before resting his hand on Jisung’s chest. Jisung faintly hopes Chenle can’t feel how fast his heart is beating.

“Sorry it took me so long,” Jisung replies, using the hands settled on Chenle’s waist to pull him a bit closer.

“Has anyone ever told you, Jisung Park, that you’re kind of an idiot?”

“Oddly enough, no.”

Chenle snorts. “You’re lucky you’re so cute, otherwise I might just smack you.”

“That’s never stopped you before,” Jisung says, matching Chenle’s smile.

They fall into a comfortable silence, save the music floating through the hall, filling up the small spaces between them. Chenle pulls Jisung a little closer, Jisung holds Chenle’s waist a little tighter.

The song ends, and Chenle pulls back just enough to look Jisung square in the face. “I like you,” he says. “Very much. In a non-platonic sort of way.”

It’s such a straightforward confession. So very Gryffindor, so very _Chenle_ that Jisung nearly laughs, but he figures that might not go over too well.

“Good,” he says instead.

“Good?” Chenle asks, raising his eyebrows.

“Very good,” Jisung nods, “because I like you too. Very much.”

“In a non-platonic way?” Chenle verifies.

“Yes,” confirms Jisung.

Chenle’s eyes sparkle. “Good.”

Jisung’s gaze catches on something above their heads; a small green plant, one of dozens suspended from the starry ceiling high above. 

“Mistletoe,” he says, jerking his head toward the ceiling.

Chenle looks up, then back at Jisung. “Oh hell no, no way. Absolutely not, that’s too cliche.” He grabs Jisung’s hand and drags him toward the door.

Jisung laughs, wild and free and so, so happy as he allows Chenle to lead him out of the Great Hall, across the entrance hall, and through the heavy oak front doors.

Fluffy white snowflakes dance in the dark night, turning pale gold in the light spilling out the doors behind them. It’s freezing cold, but Jisung barely notices, too focused on the warmth of Chenle’s hand in his.

Chenle turns to face him, smile softening. “That’s better,” he says.

Jisung shakes his head in disbelief; he doesn’t think Chenle will ever stop surprising him. “Okay, no mistletoe,” he says. “Can I… can I kiss you?”

In answer, Chenle steps closer until they’re chest to chest, threading his fingers into the hair at the nape of Jisung’s neck.

Their breath mixes and crystallizes in the frozen air, curling like smoke. Jisung leans in, cupping Chenle’s cheek. He’s never kissed anyone before; he doesn’t know what it will be like. He’s eager to learn.

“Wait,” Chenle breathes, the word ghosting across Jisung’s lips, and Jisung freezes. “I really need to confess something.”

Jisung pulls away enough to scrutinize Chenle’s face. “What is it?”

“That first day,” Chenle starts, and Jisung can’t tell if his ears are red because of the cold, or embarrassment of what he’s about to say. “Remember when you lost you pen?”

“Yeah,” answers Jisung slowly.

“You didn’t really lose it,” Chenle says in a rush. “I took it.”

“What? Why?”

Chenle tips his head back with a groan. “Because—ugh, this is so embarrassing—because I couldn’t think of any other way to make you talk to me.”

Jisung blinks. “You wanted to talk to me?”

“Of course I did! I kind of,” Chenle ducks his head, addressing his next words to his shoes. “I’ve had a bit of a crush on you since third year. You were always so quiet and mysterious. I wanted to find out more about you, so I took your pen so I could start a conversation.”

“Quiet and mysterious?” Jisung repeats.

“And then I got to know you and you’re incredible! I knew you were smart, but you’re also kind, and generous, and funny—”

Jisung throws his head back and laughs. “You absolute,” he gasps, “you absolute fool, Chenle Zhong.” He gently tilts Chenle’s face back up and finally, finally presses their lips together.

This kiss only lasts a moment before Jisung has to break away, unable to control his laughter. Chenle soon joins in, his distinctive shriek of mirth ringing out across the grounds. They’re both still giggling when Chenle pulls him back in, so there’s too much teeth, but it feels perfect.

They stay there, on the front steps of the castle with the faint sound of music from the ball floating out the open door behind them, until their teeth are chattering and their fingers numb. Jisung thinks Chenle looks lovely with snow in his hair, his nose and cheeks and lips flushed bright pink. He tells Chenle as much, and it’s a shame his cheeks are already too red for him to blush.

Jaemin scolds them when they return to the Great Hall. “Look at you both, you’re frozen half to death,” he worries, trying to rub some warmth back into Jisung’s fingers. 

“Give them a break, Nana,” Renjun says, hooking his chin over Jaemin’s shoulder and shooting Chenle and Jisung a sly smile. “I’m sure they had ways of keeping warm.”

When the clock strikes midnight, a cloud of silver confetti explodes over the Great Hall. Students and teachers alike toast to the end of the Yule Ball and the beginning of a new year, and Chenle kisses Jisung again, to enthusiastic cheers from their friends.

“My little boys are growing up,” Jaemin says, pretending to wipe away tears. 

Soon, the teachers begin shooing the students out of the Hall. A tired Mark drags Chenle off in the direction of Gryffindor tower, mumbling something about needing a headache remedy potion. Chenle shoots Jisung one last cheeky grin as they turn the corner. 

Jisung’s smile lingers all the way back to Ravenclaw tower and as he changes into his pajamas. All his roommates seem as worn out as he is; there’s little conversation in the dormitory as they climb into bed. There’s something nagging at the back of Jisung’s mind, something he’s forgotten, but he falls asleep almost as soon as his head hits the pillow.

It feels like only moments later when Jisung is awoken by a clattering sound. He looks around, disoriented, and it takes him a few seconds to find the source of the noise: a white owl insistently tapping on the window next to his bed. Jisung hurriedly pulls himself out of his blankets to let the bird in before it wakes his roommates.

“What is it,” he grumbles, opening the window and shivering in the cold draft that blows. The owl drops a note on Jisung’s head and swoops back out the window into the night.

Jisung closes the window, squinting to read the note in the dim light.

_Come to Gryffindor Tower, quick!_

The note isn’t signed, of course, but it could only be from Chenle. Jisung considers ignoring him and going back to bed, but quickly dismisses the idea. Instead, he slides on his slippers and grabs a dressing gown as he heads for the stairs.

The corridors are dark and completely still. Jisung’s footsteps, although soft, seem ear shattering in the silence. Stifling a yawn, Jisung sets off toward Gryffindor Tower. 

As he waits for a staircase to stop moving so he can get to the seventh floor, a glowing silvery figure pops out of the wall beside him.

“Chuu!” Jisung exclaims, pressing a hand over his chest. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

Chuu rolls her eyes. “How was I supposed to know anyone was there? You’re supposed to be in bed.”

“Fair enough.”

“Where are you sneaking off to in the middle of the night?” Chuu persists, floating beside him as he climbs the now-stationary staircase.

“Gryffindor Tower, and keep your voice down. I don’t want detention.”

Chuu waves away his concern. “As if any teacher would punish _you._ Are you going to visit Chenle? Oh! How was the ball? Did you finally work up the nerve to ask him?”

“You’re asking too many questions,” Jisung laughs. “Yes, I went to the ball with Chenle, and yes, I’m going to see him.”

The rest of the way to Gryffindor Tower, Jisung answers Chuu’s questions about his holidays, the ball, and Chenle. Chuu, excitedly bouncing and giggling, eyes alight with enthusiasm, looks more alive than Jisung has ever seen her.

“What are you doing here at this hour?” the portrait of the Fat Lady says when they arrive, eyeing Jisung suspiciously. “Do you know it’s nearly three in the morning?”

“I need to speak with someone,” Jisung replies uncertainly.

“Not without a password, you don’t,” snaps the Fat Lady imperiously.

Before Jisung can respond, the portrait swings forward, and out tumbles Chenle. Jisung barely has time to snatch his arm to keep him from falling to the floor.

“Woah, calm down,” Jisung chuckles, setting Chenle back on his feet. “What’s so urgent that it couldn’t wait until morning?”

“Sorry to wake you,” Chenle says earnestly. “I just completely forgot earlier. I have to ask you something.”

Jisung furrows his brows in confusion. “What is it?” 

“Will you be my boyfriend?”

Behind them, Chuu lets out a delighted squeal, making Chenle jump and spin around. 

“Oh, hello Chuu!” Chenle greets her before turning back to Jisung. “So?”

“Of course I’ll be your boyfriend,” Jisung answers with a bit less enthusiasm than he would if it wasn’t the middle of the night.

Chenle leans in to kiss Jisung’s cheek. “Perfect.”

“Guys!” Chuu interrupts in an urgent whisper. “Someone’s coming.”

The boys freeze, listening. After a moment, Jisung, too, hears the voices, and he’s reasonably sure they belong to Professor Kim and Professor Jung. Jung’s pretty laid back for a teacher, and has turned a blind eye to Jisung wandering the castle past curfew before, but Professor Kim is known for being strict.

“In here, quick,” Chenle tugs Jisung toward the portrait hole, and they clamber inside just as the glow of wandlight rounds the corner.

“That was close,” Chenle sighs, leaning against the back of the door. “How long do you think it’ll be until it’s safe?”

Chuu sticks her head through the door right next to Chenle, who yelps in surprise. “Jisung could just stay here for the night,” Chuu suggests, with a not-so-subtle wink.

Chenle grins, and Jisung resigns himself to odd looks from the Gryffindors tomorrow morning.

Falling asleep next to Chenle is a lot less nerve-wracking this time around. Despite the unfamiliar surroundings of the Gryffindor dormitory, Jisung doesn’t feel out of place with his arms around Chenle, their legs entangled. He’ll definitely wake up with pins and needles tomorrow, but he can’t bring himself to care.

“I’m really, really glad you stole my pen,” Jisung murmurs into Chenle’s hair. He can feel Chenle’s lips quirk into a smile against his neck.

“Yeah, me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow so there was the final chapter! All that's left is the epilogue, which will probably be up tomorrow or the next day.  
> As always, thank you so much for reading, feel free to come yell at me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/see_thevision) or [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/nctseethevision/). I have a [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/see_thevision) now as well!


	13. Epilogue

“What if they hate me?”

“Don’t be silly, they love you already.”

Chenle eyes Jisung dubiously. “What have you told them about me?”

Jisung throws an arm over Chenle’s shoulder and pulls him close. “That you’re the best friend I could have ever wished for, and an even better boyfriend.”

“Boo,” Renjun complains, tossing a chocolate frog wrapper at the couple. “Go be gross somewhere else.”

“Look who’s talking,” Chenle shoots back at Renjun, who is currently sprawled across the laps of both Jaemin and Jeno.

"Anyways," Jaemin interjects before Renjun can respond, "you really don't have to worry so much. I've met Jisung's parents before, and they were very nice."

Chenle still looks anxious, but he nods and shifts to settle more comfortably against Jisung.

Sunshine streams into their compartment as the Hogwarts Express speeds though the countryside. The seven boys talk and laugh and make the most of the last few hours they're allowed to use magic before going home for the summer. 

They've already made plans to get together over the break. Mark's father promised them all tickets to the Quidditch World Cup, and Donghyuck insists that Jisung and Jeno take them all to a muggle movie theatre.

And Chenle is staying at Jisung's house for a few days. 

A few weeks ago, Chenle found out that his parents would be out of the country visiting Sicheng, who has been in America for the past month helping their government with something top secret. They were upset that they wouldn't be there when Chenle got home from school, but it would be their last chance to see Sicheng before the start of his undercover mission. Jisung had immediately sent an owl to his own parents, asking if Chenle could stay with them, and the assenting response had nearly as many exclamation marks as words.

The train pulls into Platform 9 ¾ all too soon. The boys gather their belongings, Jeno coaxes his cat out from under his seat, and they file out of the compartment.

Jisung is about to follow the others into the corridor when a tug on his arm pulls him back. Chenle’s looking anxious again, teeth worrying at his lower lip.

“Do you really think they’ll like me?” he says, voice soft and scared and very un-Chenle-like.

“Chenle,” Jisung says, placing his hands on Chenle’s shoulders and pressing a quick kiss to his forehead. “They are going to _adore_ you. They may not have met you yet, but they know that you make me happier than I’ve ever been, and they already love you for it.”

That, finally, makes Chenle smile. “Okay,” he says, “let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, if you've read this far, you might as well follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/see_thevision). I also now have a [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/see_thevision) if you'd like to ask me any questions!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Please continue to support NCT DREAM and don't forget to stream Ridin'!

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/see_thevision) or [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/nctseethevision/)
> 
> also check out this [concept art](https://twitter.com/see_thevision/status/1359700189792112641)!


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